Unexpected Savior
by Wynter Flame
Summary: SLASH - overall HD with some HS After being saved by the last person he would have expected, can Harry come to terms with the fact that maybe not everyone is what they seem?
1. chapter 1

Title: Unexpected Savior   
  
Rating: R  
  
Warnings: Slash, non-con, cutting (I know, really doesn't sound fluffy)  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine! (unfortunately) All hail J.K.Rowling and anyone else who does have ownership!  
  
Author's Note: This started out as my usual short, angsty piece, but my muse pelted me with fluff, so here goes.  
  
He ran, chest heaving with silent sobs. Finally the lack of air got to him, and he collapsed against a wall somewhere in the dungeons.   
  
Ron and Hermione wouldn't even notice he was gone until morning, and the thought did nothing to comfort him.   
  
What went wrong? He asked himself bleakly. Hogwarts was supposed to be his sanctuary, his home. Now, in seventh year, all he wanted was to be gone.   
  
Cho still blamed him for Cedric's death, as did Harry himself. There was no loving godfather to run to when he needed advice. Dumbledore couldn't be disturbed; he was much too busy trying to deal with Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were together now, which Harry approved of, but it meant that they spent more and more time off by themselves.   
  
And I'm left with no one, Harry thought. Slowly depression wrapped around him, choking him. As his tears ran dry, he pulled out a small dagger contemplatively. The sharp blade gleamed brightly, so tempting. How easy it would be to just end it now. A few quick strokes were all it would take.   
  
Dreamily he held the blade to his wrist, feeling the sharp sting of metal cutting into him. Harry dragged it across slowly, watching the hot, red blood well up and drip onto the floor.   
  
  
  
Draco wandered the halls aimlessly, idly scratching the old scars on his wrist. They were from before last year, before Voldemort killed Lucius on a whim.   
  
At the time, Draco couldn't quite bring himself to mourn the bastard who'd been beating and torturing him in the name of "training" since has was three, and he felt the same way now.   
  
A month after Lucius death and Narcissa's abandonment, Snape, his godfather, had officially adopted him.   
  
Now he was a somewhat different person, not to mention Head Boy and second in the class only to Hermione.   
  
And also, he thought sardonically, an insomniac. His Head Boy status gave him leave to wander the halls freely, which he took advantage of nearly every night.   
  
As he neared his rooms, he thought he heard a noise. Turning the corner, Draco met jewel-bright green eyes. "What the hell?"  
  
Then he saw the dagger, and the pool of blood that the boy's wrist lay in. "Oh Merlin, Potter," he whispered.   
  
Harry smirked up at him, somehow finding it funny that Malfoy would be the last person he saw before he died, before passing out and sinking the rest of the way to the ground.   
  
Author's Note: Okay, short first chapter, and not so much fluff, but it's coming. Review so I know to keep writing! 


	2. chapter 2

The door to Snape's chambers was kicked in and slammed against the wall with a resounding crash.   
  
Draco liked the noise, it suited his mood.   
  
"What do you want?" the Potions Professor demanded before seeing his adopted son walk into view. Harry was cradled limply in his arms and there was blood on his robes. "What happened?" he asked quietly, annoyance gone from his voice.   
  
"All of the blood is Potter's, "Draco assured him, seeing the relief in his godfather's eyes. "I found him like this, near my room." Ignoring Snape's muttered, "You should have left him there," knowing he didn't really mean it anyway, Draco continued, "Sev, he did this to himself."  
  
"Another publicity stunt from The-Boy-Who-Lived," Snape drawled, partly relieved that it hadn't been another Death Eater break in, like last year.   
  
"It's not a publicity stunt if you're dead," Draco ground out angrily. He had no idea why he was standing up for the Golden Boy of Gryffindor; really, he should be agreeing with his adoptive father. But seeing the other teen bleeding out, in much the same position that Sev had once found him brought out a strange protectiveness in Draco. "What do we do?"  
  
Snape sighed, pulled out his wand, and muttered a quick healing charm. Nothing happened. He did it again, a bit louder, as though volume equaled power. Still nothing. An apprehensive expression settled across his features, doing nothing to help Draco's already unsettled state of mind.   
  
"Sev?"  
  
"Do you have his knife?"  
  
Draco thought for a moment and then answered, "I saw it, but I was slightly distracted by the fact that Harry-bloody-Potter was dying in front of me."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and commanded, "Get it. I need to test something. And Draco," he added as the boy laid Harry on the couch, "Don't worry."  
  
Draco nodded once and left.   
  
Snape walked into one of his numerous storerooms, muttering to himself about all Potters living only to inconvenience him. He grabbed a few vials and went back to the couch, kneeling down next to the seventeen-year-old.   
  
He set down all of the vials except for one that glowed eerily, purple and black swirling through green.   
  
As he uncorked the bottle, Draco darted in, breathing slightly harsh from running through the dungeons.   
  
He knelt down next to Snape and handed him the dagger hilt first, ignoring the blood that coated it. In return, Snape handed him the vial and told him, "Put some of this on Potter's wrist."  
  
Draco poured some onto his fingers and spread it across the slowly drying wounds, unwittingly noting the softness of the skin he was rubbing.   
  
Shoving the observation to the back of his mind where he could think about it later, he watched in surprise as the wounds healed over, leaving only faint scars.   
  
Looking up from his work with the dagger, Snape caught Draco's questioning look and said shortly, "Phoenix tears." He took out his wand again and aimed it at the still unconscious boy as he said "Ennervate."  
  
Harry opened his eyes, and before he could ask any questions, a potion was thrust into his hands as Snape ordered, "Drink this."  
  
Too used to following directions in Potions to do anything else, Harry obeyed. Surprisingly, the potion tasted only slightly of mud, and he was filled quickly with a rushing warmth.   
  
"For the blood loss," Snape informed him, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a glare. He couldn't believe he was saving The-Boy-Who-Shouldn't-Be-Alive yet again.   
  
"Why?" Harry asked looking at Draco.   
  
Draco could easily have pretended not to understand the question, but something compelled him to answer. He wracked his brain for a suitable reply, and finally found one that would suffice. "Because if anyone gets to kill you, Potter, it's going to be me. That's one victory I won't let you take."  
  
Snape barely refrained from rolling his eyes. You'd think after nearly seven years they'd get over their silly little rivalry, he thought to himself.  
  
Harry smirked, he couldn't help it. Trust Malfoy to be an arrogant prat about something so noble as saving a life.  
  
Reaching for Harry's now-healed wrist, Draco repeated the question. "Why?"  
  
"It was an easy way out," Harry replied without thinking.   
  
Blank expression replaced by a startled look, Draco asked dryly, "And when have you ever taken the easy way out?"  
  
As Harry opened his mouth to reply, Snape asked, "Potter, what spells do you have on here?"  
  
"A charm to make it difficult to heal wounds inflicted with it, and another to prevent it from being used against me." Running a finger across the thin white scars now adorning his wrist, he said to himself, "apparently I can use it against me though."  
  
"So there were no Dark Arts used?"  
  
Harry gave his Professor an incredulous look, as though he couldn't believe Snape was even asking. "Of course not! S-Snuffles would never have left me a dagger with Dark Arts on it!"  
  
"Well there are Dark spells on it now," Snape responded calmly.  
  
Harry grabbed his dagger angrily, not understanding the colorful swirls surrounding it.   
  
The Potions Professor snatched it back, glaring as he snapped, "Give me that! I don't want you bleeding all over my floor again."  
  
"I wouldn't let my blood grace your stupid floor!" Harry shouted, knowing in the back of his mind that the comeback sounded vaguely ridiculous.   
  
"It already is!" Snape cried, motioning wildly towards the floor where there were a few drops of red.   
  
Harry's hair was even more ruffled than usual, Snape's robes were billowing about, and tension was practically vibrating in the air as they stood toe to toe.   
  
Draco idly thought that if looks could kill, both his godfather and Potter would be very, very dead, and the idea of them trying to murder each other with just their eyes was enough to make him laugh.   
  
Both Snape and Harry spun on him, perfectly mirroring each other.   
  
As soon as he realized what they'd done, Snape growled and, dagger still in hand, stormed out of the room.   
  
Harry collapsed back onto the sofa, where Draco was now sitting.  
  
"Hey, watch it Potter!" Draco yelped, but the words lacked their usual force.   
  
Harry just smiled angelically at him, and Draco muttered something unintelligible as he moved to perch on the armrest.   
  
They sat in silence, both too tired to pursue the usual fighting. Their rivalry had lost it's hatefulness after Lucius's death, and there were no more Mudblood or finance comments, but it was still there, cheered on by the seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors alike.   
  
A few minutes later Snape stalked back in, the glare now faded into a troubled weariness.   
  
"What did you find, Sev?" Draco asked, knowing Snape wasn't easily worried, especially when it came to the dark haired boy sitting next to him.   
  
Seemingly ignoring the question, Snape asked quietly, "Potter, how many people know you have this?"  
  
Harry's first instinct was to say no one, but then he remembered that day in Potions. "Everyone who was in Potions last week could have seen it, but I didn't say anything about it. I don't think even Ron or Hermione know about it."  
  
"Do you make a habit of playing with weapons in my class?" Snape inquired, voice deceptively even.  
  
"No," Harry replied in a long-suffering voice. "You paired me with Neville."  
  
Snape still looked confused, but Draco smirked, understanding. "Longbottom, Sev. Do you remember which potion you had us making last week?"  
  
Harry answered for him, "Something that involved sliced Kraken, apparently with as much slime as possible. Neville's hand kept slipping, so I had him use my dagger. I like having all of my limbs attached."  
  
"Ah, yes. Longbottom," Snape sneered. Neville was known to blow up a cauldron nearly every time one was involved. And then there was the time he'd turned everyone's hair bright pink and purple. "So all of the Gryffindors and Slytherins in your year know you have your own dagger, and could have easily figured out that it couldn't be used against you."  
  
"Yeah. . ." Harry wanted to know where Snape was going with this.   
  
"And wouldn't it be perfect if your death couldn't be traced back to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?"  
  
"Voldemort," Harry and Draco corrected in unison. Giving Draco a startled look of grudging respect, Harry added, "Just say Voldemort."  
  
"Fine," Snape heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Voldemort."  
  
"Drama queen," Harry muttered under his breath, and Draco quickly turned his snicker into a cough.   
  
Snape looked at them suspiciously. It was unnerving to see them being civil.  
  
"Anyway," Harry continued, "what does that have to do with my dagger?"  
  
Apparently going off on another tangent, Snape asked, "Potter, have you ever cut yourself before?"  
  
Unhappily Harry replied, "No."  
  
"Have you ever tried to kill yourself before?" the Professor pressed.  
  
Harry's expression went carefully blank. Annoyed, he snapped, "I'm still here aren't I? Why does this matter?"  
  
"If you refuse to talk because of me Potter," Draco drawled, "Don't worry." He pushed up the sleeve of his robe, revealing a wrist crisscrossed with scars. "I won't tell if you don't."  
  
Harry's eyes widened, but still he turned to look pleadingly at Snape, who only nodded. "Fine," he sighed. His voice was bland, empty as he answered, "Yes, I've tried before, although I've never gotten this far. Hedwig always stopped me. It was the summer after I killed Sir-Snuffles."  
  
Ignoring Draco's quick intake of breath, Snape said, "You didn't kill him Potter, and you know he'd hate for you to think that."  
  
Harry gave him a long look and nodded once. "He probably would. But he's not here to tell me so, is he?"  
  
"Summer . . ." Draco said softly. "Why didn't your Muggle family stop you?"  
  
With a bitter, humorless smile, Harry replied, "Stop me? Hell Malfoy, they encouraged me. They gave me the pills."  
  
Snape winced and Draco quickly concealed his horror. Sure, as a Malfoy he hadn't had the best of home lives, but at least Narcissa somewhat liked him. "Bloody hell Potter," he breathed.   
  
Defensive now, Harry replied, "It's not as though you've had a perfect life. You don't slice yourself up," here he motioned at Draco's wrist, "because you're happy Malfoy." He considered adding 'or do you?' but decided that as Malfoy had most likely saved his life, it probably wouldn't have been polite.   
  
"Does the Headmaster know, Potter?" Snape asked softly.  
  
"Of course not, I only did it tonight. I suppose you'll tell him, though."  
  
"I was talking about your summer," the Professor replied, deciding not to acknowledge the challenge in his student's tone.   
  
"No. He's got enough to deal with in Voldemort. I'm not going to add another unnecessary problem."  
  
Neither Draco nor Snape knew what to say to this, so they sat in an awkward silence, Harry meeting their eyes defiantly.   
  
"You most likely should have told him, but we'll deal with that later," Snape said eventually. "I'll need to keep your dagger."  
  
"No," Harry answered flatly.   
  
"Potter-"  
  
"You can't take it! It's the last thing I have left of Sirius." Harry's eyes widened as he noticed his slip. He was so used to Snape being in the Order, he hadn't been thinking about Draco.   
  
"Black? Your godfather?" Draco asked. Noting Snape's and Harry's twin expressions of shock, he rolled his eyes. "I do know more than an average student, what with my father being who he was. You of all people should know that, Sev."  
  
Snape nodded distractedly, looking at Harry. "I can't let you take the dagger."  
  
"I'm taking it back with me," Harry replied stubbornly.   
  
"You'll try to kill yourself the minute you lay a hand on it!" Snape objected.   
  
"I will not!"  
  
"Yes you will!"  
  
Draco watched the fight as someone might watch a tennis match, his face an empty mask. He still couldn't get over what Harry had said earlier. Just proved how horrible Muggles were, really, he decided. In that aspect, at least, the Death Eaters were right.   
  
"If you die," the Potions Professor yelled, "then Voldemort wins!" He realized this probably wasn't the best thing to say in front of Draco, a possible future Death Eater, but he also knew that it might be the best argument against Potter. He also suspected that Draco would join the Order just to spite his father, if the choice was offered.   
  
"I don't want to kill myself!" Harry shouted back. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Snape had Silencing Charms around his rooms.   
  
"You don't have to want to," Snape said, slightly calmer. "The spells on the dagger are. . . compulsion spells."  
  
Harry scoffed. "I've been able to throw off Imperius since fourth year."  
  
"That isn't what this is. It's an enhancement spell combined with a spell to remove inhibitions."  
  
Both Harry and Draco refrained from mentioning that this sounded more like sex magic than anything deadly.   
  
Snape could apparently tell what they were thinking though, and said exasperatedly, "Enhancement of emotions, to make Gryffindor over here feel even more depressed," At Harry's startled look he added, "Yes, McGonagall, and most of the Professors, know you're unhappy Potter, but no one knows what to do about it." Getting back on track, he continued, "Removing of inhibitions to get rid of his hero complex and allow him to give in and kill himself."  
  
Harry looked vaguely insulted at the hero remark, but let it go. Somewhere in there was something important. " . . . So someone from Slytherin is trying to kill me?"  
  
"It could be someone from Gryffindor," Draco offered helpfully. When Harry looked at him as though he was a rather dense Hufflepuff, he sighed. "So, someone from my House wants you dead? Not exactly a new development, Potter."  
  
"Gee Malfoy, how reassuring," Harry replied sarcastically. "Are we sure it wasn't you?"  
  
"If it was me, Potter, I wouldn't have carried your sorry arse down here in the first place," Draco informed him.   
  
Harry shrugged. It was true. "So, how many Slytherin seventh years are Death Eaters?"  
  
"None of them are marked, but Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini are the only two who've been vocal about 'not being a servant to anyone, much less someone who looks like a walking corpse'," Snape's impression of Pansy's voice was eerily accurate.   
  
"And Malfoy?" Harry directed the question at Snape, but he was looking towards Draco.   
  
"I, Potter, am my own person, not some idiot's bloody lapdog," Draco replied, wondering if he would have been better off leaving Potter to die. He was rather annoying. Then he met the other boy's eyes and saw the growing respect there. Well. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.   
  
As if he was just now realizing that it was past two on a Thursday night, or rather Friday morning, Snape ordered the boys back to their rooms. "Come back tomorrow and we'll sort this out."  
  
As they made to go their separate ways, Draco called out, "Hey, Potter! Remember what I said. If anyone's going to be killing you, it'll be me, so don't go doing it yourself."  
  
Harry laughed, because sometimes with Malfoy, he had decided, that was all you could do. After waiting long enough that Draco turned away, assuming Harry wasn't going to say anything, he called, "Hey Malfoy!" When Draco turned to face him, he said, "Same here," and then turned and strode towards Gryffindor Tower, not giving the Slytherin a chance to reply.   
  
Author's Note: Please review, I'll even look at flames, but if they're about homosexuality, I will laugh at the person who wrote it for being stupid enough to ignore the warning. 


	3. chapter 3

Author's Note: ~this~ is Parseltongue, *this* is for emphasis. I know the Draco liking Parseltongue and the Harry has to speak Parseltongue ideas are rather overused, but I like them. Also, though the plotline seems to have gone missing for the next few chapters, they are character/relationship development, and, yay for me, I managed to find the plot again, so it will be coming back.  
  
Also, thanks to Spideria :)  
  
All he could feel was pain. Slowly, Harry's vision cleared, and he could see a red-faced Vernon standing over him, yelling, cursing, hitting him, "Stupid boy!" the man screamed as yet another blow landed.  
  
Harry wondered what he'd done to warrant this, not that it mattered. As long as his uncle didn't try anything . . . else, it didn't matter. He could feel his lip bleeding, bruises forming on his arms and chest where he'd been hit. As he looked over his Vernon's shoulder, he thought he saw something in the distance.   
  
Moving quickly, riding a white horse and wielding a sword was . . . Malfoy?   
  
Harry watched in disbelief as Malfoy drove Vernon away, threatening to kill him if he ever laid a hand on Harry again. Then he dismounted, standing before Harry.   
  
"Thank you," Harry said quietly, looking down. He jumped as he felt a hand caress his cheek, eyes flying to meet his rescuer's as he heard the whispered words, "A kiss is thanks enough."  
  
Before he could do anything Malfoy had closed the rest of the distance between them and was kissing Harry passionately. He was a good kisser, Harry thought dazedly. And then he couldn't think anymore as Malfoy ran the tip of his tongue along Harry's bottom lip. "Draco," Harry moaned softly.   
  
He was roughly shaken into wakefulness to see a bemused Seamus standing over him. Blood heated his face as he realized what he'd been dreaming. He really didn't need his crush knowing that. "Umm, Seamus?" he asked, praying he hadn't said anything out loud.   
  
"At least you know who I am now," Seamus laughed. "Before when I shook you, you called me Draco."  
  
Harry figured he just about matched the color of Ron's hair now. "What?" he managed to get out. At least said crush didn't seem to mind.   
  
"Yeah, sounded like an interesting dream," Seamus said mischievously.  
  
"Don't tell anyone," Harry pleaded.   
  
"Don't worry mate, secret's safe. Didn't know you went for the annoying blonde gits, though."   
  
"Neither did I," Harry muttered darkly. He climbed out of bed and shook Ron awake. As his best friend opened bleary eyes, Harry told him, "Breakfast." Ron nodded, and Harry walked to the foot of his own bed.   
  
Grabbing out a set of clean robes he made his way to the showers, and closed his eyes under the hot spray of water. He tried to think of Quidditch practice, of homework, of anything except kissing Malfoy, but his mind kept going back to his dream. "Just a dream," he told himself, but his body betrayed him, reacting to the memory of Malfoy's lips on his as his mind began forming possible ways the dream could have . . . finished. "Gods," Harry growled as he smacked his head into the wall. He did it a few more times for good measure. Today was not going to be a good day.  
  
He met Ron and Hermione back in the common room ten minutes later, looking distracted. He nearly walked into them before he realized they were there.   
  
"Is something wrong Harry?" Hermione asked.  
  
Yes! Harry wanted to shout. A Slytherin is trying to get me to kill myself and I just dreamt about kissing, yes *kissing*, not killing, Draco Malfoy! Instead he answered, "No, just tired."  
  
"I noticed you weren't back yet when I went up to bed," Ron said, looking at him curiously.  
  
"I was talking with Snape," Harry replied evasively.   
  
Now Hermione looked surprised. As they left the common room, she asked in a low voice, "Order business?"  
  
"No, something else."   
  
Hermione waited for him to explain, and when he didn't, her only reply was a disbelieving, "hmm."  
  
They walked into the Great Hall and moved to the Gryffindor table. Seamus winked and Harry, trying to distract himself, looked toward the Slytherin table. There was Draco, in his usual spot, dwarfed by the walking boulders known as Crabbe and Goyle.   
  
Draco met his eyes for a second and Harry flushed, looking away. Confusion flashed across Draco's features, gone as quickly as it came.   
  
Hermione saw the whole thing, and made a mental note to talk to Harry later. Something was obviously going on.  
  
"What classes do we have today?" Ron asked as they sat down, happily oblivious to his best friend's discomfiture.   
  
"Honestly Ron," Hermione complained, "It's November! You still don't know the schedule?"  
  
Harry smiled at their antics as he grabbed a piece of toast. "We've got Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Potions." The two still took nearly all of the same classes.   
  
"Slytherin day," Ron groaned.   
  
Harry groaned inwardly at the thought of having nearly every class with Malfoy. He really should have just stayed in bed today. Of course, then he would have found out where the dream was going. . . Flushing, he stared down at the table.  
  
"Harry, are you sure you're all right?" Hermione asked worriedly.   
  
"Fine," he replied weakly. Seeing Hermione's concerned expression, he figured maybe he should tell them, though. The distance was building between the Gryffindor Trio, and he knew he was partly responsible. "Actually," he said, "Maybe we should talk. Come out into the hall."  
  
They walked into the hall, finding a quiet corner. "Someone from Slytherin is trying to kill me," Harry told them in a low voice.  
  
"Nothing new, mate," Ron replied. "They've always hated you."  
  
Harry looked at him strangely. "That's what Malfoy told me."  
  
"You were talking to *Malfoy*?" Ron yelped. "Was he the one that tried to kill you? Of course he was," he answered himself. "Did you tell Dumbledore, Harry?"  
  
Finally able to get a word in, Harry answered, "No, it wasn't Malfoy, he's the one who found me, and no, I didn't tell Dumbledore. I didn't even know what was going on until Snape told me."  
  
"What?" Ron goggled.  
  
"Maybe you should tell us what happened Harry. Start at the beginning," Hermione advised. "And what was the thing with Malfoy at breakfast?"  
  
"What thing?" Harry asked.  
  
"You know what thing. The thing with you looking at him and turning bright red," Something dawned on Hermione. "Is it a love potion? Are you in love with Malfoy?"  
  
Ron turned slightly green.  
  
Harry yelled, "What?! No, there's no love potion. I do NOT have a CRUSH on bloody MALFOY, of all people!"  
  
Draco had chosen that moment to exit the Great Hall. "Good to know, Potter."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle snickered.  
  
"Kill me now," Harry groaned.   
  
"All right Potter, so long as you're not doing it yourself," Draco sneered. "Wouldn't want you screwing it up."  
  
"I wasn't talking to you Malfoy!" He was too embarrassed to listen or care about what the other was saying.  
  
Draco just smirked and turned away, walking outside with his thugs.  
  
"What was he talking about, Harry?"  
  
"We have to get to class," was Harry's only reply as he turned and followed Draco.   
  
Hermione shook her head and thought to herself, I didn't ask him if he had a crush on Malfoy.   
  
Ron growled, "Bloody Ferret has him under a spell, I'm sure of it."  
  
Outside, Harry saw Hagrid standing next to a crate, and he could hear groggy voices from inside of it.  
  
~Where am I? ~  
  
~Why is it so cold? ~  
  
Waiting for Hermione to catch up, Harry asked, "Mione, do you know what creature Hagrid has us working with today?"  
  
"No, why?" Hermione asked curiously.  
  
"Because I can hear them." At their confused looks, Harry motioned towards the crate and added, "Voices. From in there." Both of his friends were still looking at him blankly. "You don't hear them? Snakes then, I'd wager."  
  
As the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins made their way towards the class, Hagrid began speaking. "Mornin' class. Today we'll be workin' with Snargons, fire-lizards with snake and dragon ancestry. These are babies, so they won't be burnin' ya. Pairs mus' be Gryffindor/Slytherin, Headmaster Dumbledore wants House unity with You-Know-Who on the loose."  
  
A few students shuddered.  
  
Hermione immediately looked towards Pansy Parkinson, knowing the girl from her Advanced Ancient Runes class, while Ron moved toward Blaise-the two knew each other from a summer Quidditch league years ago.   
  
Harry looked up to find Draco standing directly in front of him. He jumped back, and then cursed the reaction as he saw humor glittering in the blonde's eyes. "Afraid of me, Potter?"  
  
"Do you really like me enough to stand so close, Malfoy?" Harry shot back.   
  
"From what I hear," Draco grinned evilly, "You like me enough to want me to."  
  
"Did you miss the 'not'?" Harry snapped.  
  
" 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much'" Draco quoted.   
  
"One, I'm not a girl, and two, you know Muggle literature?"  
  
Draco ran his eyes down Harry's body in a slow perusal. "No, you are very much a male, Potter."  
  
Harry reddened and turned away quickly. "I'll get the Snargon."  
  
This is even more interesting than making him angry, Draco thought to himself. And almost every class today was with the Gryffindorks, except for Herbology. Today was definitely going to be fun.   
  
Over at the crate, there was only one Snargon left, a small gold-green one. It looked like a miniature dragon. As Harry watched, slim wings unfurled slowly while the baby stretched.   
  
~Hello, little one ~ he greeted.   
  
In reply the Snargon flew up to his shoulder and perched there, tail wrapping lightly around his neck.   
  
Harry walked back towards Draco, not really listening to Hagrid, who was talking about how to feed the Snargons, what they ate, and the fact that they were often kept as pets in other countries.   
  
Draco looked at it interestedly, saying, "I always wanted one of these." He reached out his hand to touch the little creature, and Harry immediately tried to distract himself from the other boy's closeness.  
  
~What's your name? ~ he asked the Snargon.   
  
~Quentin Silver-Tongue ~ came the reply.   
  
~I'm Harry, and he's Draco ~ Harry told Quentin, motioning towards the other boy.  
  
Draco closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the hissed conversation. The only times he'd ever heard Parseltongue were from Voldemort, and the single time in second year. Voldemort's voice was cold, metallic, and Draco had always found it creepy. He'd never realized how good it could sound until he heard Harry's warm voice pronouncing the sibilant words. He was suddenly grateful for the looseness of school robes. When he spoke, his voice was slightly rough, "What's it saying?"   
  
Harry didn't seem to notice Draco's entrancement, and replied without looking up, "His name is Quentin Silver-Tongue, but we can just call him Quent."  
  
~Where's your family, Quent? ~  
  
~Family? ~ the Snargon asked.  
  
~You know, brothers, sisters, hatchlings you were born with? ~  
  
~I have none ~ Quent answered, still sounding faintly confused.   
  
Harry looked towards Draco, just now seeing the Slytherin's closed eyes. "Malfoy, are you alright?"  
  
Draco opened lust darkened eyes and replied hoarsely, "I'm fine." What the hell? He thought frantically to himself. This is *Potter*! I don't feel this way about the bloody Boy-Who-Lived!   
  
Harry was completely unaware of the inner turmoil of the boy next to him. Instead, he was thinking of the Snargon now draped over the back of his neck, sleeping. "He has no family." Then he remembered Draco's offhand comment from the beginning of class, and the fact that the Slytherin didn't have much of a family either. "I'll be right back, Malfoy."  
  
Draco nodded distractedly, not really listening.   
  
Harry made his way toward Hagrid, asking quietly, "Hagrid, where will they live once the lesson is over?"  
  
"I suppose we'll be givin' them a chance ta go home, Harry," Hagrid answered.   
  
"What if they don't want to leave?" Harry questioned.  
  
"Well. . ." obviously the possibility hadn't come up.  
  
"If they wanted to stay here, could we keep them? I can ask them."  
  
"Sure, I don' see why not. Final decision is the Headmaster's, o' course." Hagrid replied thoughtfully.  
  
"Thanks, Hagrid."  
  
The groundskeeper nodded and Harry dashed back to Draco, waking Quentin.  
  
~Quentin, would you like to live here? ~  
  
~Does it ever get warm? ~ the Snargon asked sleepily.  
  
Harry laughed and replied, ~it's warm inside, and it'll be warm in the summer. ~  
  
~Okay. ~ the fire-lizard promptly went back to sleep.   
  
"Hey, Malfoy!" Harry called.  
  
Draco, who had finally managed to get his traitorous body under control, turned to see a brightly smiling Harry a few feet away. "Yes, Potter?"  
  
"Have you ever had a pet?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"Just answer the question, Malfoy," Harry answered, annoyance building. Maybe this was a dumb idea. After all, how many people did nice things for their *enemies*? But after last night, were they really enemies? And it was okay to do something nice for the person who saved your life.   
  
"Does Lucius really seem like the type of father to allow pets?" Draco asked cynically. "And if he had, he probably would have killed them as punishment."  
  
Harry nodded, that sounded like something the elder Malfoy would do. Really, there weren't a whole lot of differences between the personalities of Vernon and Lucius, though he hoped Lucius had never sunk to some of Vernon's . . . tactics. ~Quentin? ~  
  
~Yes? ~ the fire-lizard answered tiredly, having been woken up yet again.  
  
~Would you like to live with Draco? ~ Harry pointed at Draco, who looked confused. Were they talking about him?  
  
~Would I still talk to you? ~ Quentin asked.  
  
Harry thought about it. ~Yeah, sure, ~ he answered. I'll just make it part of the deal, he told himself.   
  
~Okay. Can I sleep now? ~  
  
~Sure, why don't you sleep on him? ~ Harry suggested, motioning towards Draco again.   
  
Quentin flew towards a startled Draco and immediately curled around his neck, going to sleep.  
  
"Umm, Potter, why is your Snargon sleeping on me?"  
  
"His name's Quentin, and he's yours. To keep, if you want him." Harry looked at the ground, not wanting to see the scorn and mockery in Malfoy's eyes. This was such a bad idea, he scolded himself.   
  
Draco's eyes widened. A pet? Potter was giving him a pet? "Thank you," he whispered, not trusting his voice.   
  
Harry looked up, startled at the tone in Draco's voice. He saw the rare emotion on his face, and finally realized how much it meant to the Slytherin. He opened his mouth to reply, to say, thanks for saving my life last night, but all that came out was a quiet, "You're welcome. There is a catch though."  
  
Draco met his eyes with a resigned look that said he had known it was too good to be true. "What do you want me to do, Potter? Kiss the Weasel, bow at your feet, what?"  
  
Harry looked shocked. "No, nothing like that! Just . . . just, can I talk to him, sometimes?"  
  
"That's it?" He asked, disbelief coloring his voice.  
  
"Well, if you really want to kiss Ron, I won't stop you," Harry grinned. "Hermione might though."  
  
Draco shuddered in disgust. "Urgh. I'd rather kiss *you*, Potter, and that says a lot."  
  
Harry suddenly found the grass extremely interesting. Of course Malfoy would have to say *that*, he thought to himself.   
  
"Harry," Hagrid called. "Come up 'ere and we'll work out who's stayin' and who's goin'."  
  
Harry looked up and nodded, then turned back to Draco. "About last night Malfoy, well, thanks."  
  
Draco looked surprised, and then smirked as he replied lightly, "How can Slytherin possibly win the House Cup if you aren't around to lose points in Potions, Potter?"  
  
Harry could see the humor in those silver eyes, and he laughed. Draco smiled, a real smile that made his face soften and his eyes light up. Harry wished the moment could last forever, but time never obliges the wishes of mere humans, and he turned towards Hagrid. Suddenly he noticed all of the other pairs were staring at him and Draco in shock.   
  
"It's a spell," Ron muttered, and Blaise could only nod in agreement, because why else would the Prince of Slytherin be smiling and laughing with the Golden Boy of Gryffindor?  
  
Even Hermione and Pansy looked vaguely worried.  
  
Harry shook his head and pretended not to notice.  
  
Draco, on the other hand, glared imperiously and snarled, "What are you looking at?" Everyone seemed to suddenly find the other direction very interesting. Upon realizing what he had just done, he groaned. "Bloody hell, Potter, we're supposed to be enemies." But Harry didn't hear. 


	4. chapter 4

Half an hour later Harry ran into Transfiguration late, a midnight blue Snargon with quicksilver eyes following behind him. "Sorry, Professor," he apologized, handing her a note from Hagrid. "Is it okay if Miri stays here?"  
  
McGonagall sighed and nodded, she already had Malfoy's, what was one more? She directed him to the back of the class, the only empty seat left. With the way the day was going, Harry was surprised to see that the person sitting alone was Seamus, not Draco. Unfortunately, this proved to be just as bad, if not worse.   
  
The whole period he had to endure a whispered sing-song of "Harry and Draco, sitting in a tree. . ."  
  
Finally he growled quietly, "Seam, I don't like him, and up until, well, *now*, I liked you!"  
  
Thankfully McGonagall dismissed the class before a shocked Seamus had the chance to reply.  
  
A bright red Harry dashed out of the room and up to Gryffindor tower. Hermione, Head Girl, had her own room, and Harry whispered the password, throwing himself down into a chair in front of the fire. He didn't realize Miri had followed him until she perched on his shoulder, hissing scoldingly, ~You almost shut the door on me. ~   
  
~Sorry, Miri ~ he smiled a little as she nosed at his ear in forgiveness.   
  
A few seconds later Ron and Hermione dashed in, demanding to know what was wrong. "What's going on Harry?"  
  
Harry sighed and answered, "You know who I like, right?"  
  
Both nodded, Harry had come out during sixth year, though both of his friends had already half-known. Around that time, Harry had also developed a rather disturbing crush on the hyper Irish boy he shared a dorm with.   
  
"Well, I told him. At the end of Transfiguration."  
  
Ron looked surprised, but Hermione just looked sympathetic. She had done the same thing with Ron, and it had ended up with them dating. "Are you sure it's so bad, Harry? Everyone knows Seam is bi, and unattached at the moment. And you're not hard to look at. . ."   
  
Ron looked at his girlfriend with a small amount of jealousy at that statement, but she just laughed and leaned back into him, allowing him to drape an arm around her shoulders.   
  
"I'd rather not think about it, really," Harry replied, stroking Miri's head. Miri rubbed into Harry's hand with a contented hiss.   
  
"How'd you get a Snargon?" Ron asked, changing the subject. "Charlie had one when we were little."  
  
Harry smiled at him gratefully and answered, "I asked all of them if they wanted to stay. Quentin went with Malfoy, Miri with me, and the rest are going to choose after dinner tonight."  
  
"You let *Malfoy* have one?" Ron demanded. "He'll probably beat it to death!"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "He will not, or I wouldn't have given Quentin to him. And Quentin had a say in it too, you know."  
  
Ron looked at him for a moment and then without any warning, pulled out his wand and yelled, "Finite Incantatum!"  
  
Harry's glasses fell apart, and he looked at Ron with wide eyes. "Ron, what was that for?!"  
  
"Do you still like Malfoy?" Ron asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. She picked up Harry's glasses and studied them as she answered, "Ron thinks you're under a spell because you don't hate Malfoy anymore. Harry, these glasses are a wreck. How many spells did you have on them?"  
  
"umm. . . a lot?" he offered.  
  
"Well, I can't fix them."  
  
"Ron," Harry complained, "You can't just throw spells at me."  
  
"Sorry mate," Ron apologized meekly.   
  
"Here," Hermione sighed and pointed her wand at Harry. He looked at her nervously. "Oh, come on Harry, you need to be able to see for the rest of our classes." She waved her wand and muttered a few words that Harry would have sworn were unpronounceable and suddenly he could see clearly.  
  
He looked faintly surprised. "Thanks 'Mione. How long will it last?"  
  
"As long as no one breaks it," she looked pointedly at Ron, who blushed, "it'll last forever. We should get to the Great Hall; we're already late for lunch."  
  
Harry groaned and said, "No. I'm never going to even be able to look at Seamus again, much less eat lunch with him. You guys go, tell them I contracted a rare disease that kills everyone with the name of Finnigan."  
  
Hermione laughed softly and grabbed Harry's arm. "You're going to have to face him sometime, you know. Come on. And you still have to tell us what happened last night." Ron nodded in agreement.  
  
"I'll tell you after Potions," Harry sighed and walked to lunch with them, steps heavy and a knot of dread in his stomach. He stared at the ground as he walked into the Great Hall, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Once seated, he stared blankly at his food, not looking up until Ron elbowed him in the ribs.   
  
"What?" Harry snapped, rubbing his side.  
  
"Seamus has been staring at you all of lunch."  
  
"Huh?" obviously he'd heard though, because he was now faintly pink.   
  
"Just thought you might want to know."  
  
Harry stole a glance down the table, and sure enough, Seamus's eyes met his. He quickly looked back down and hurried out as soon as he could, muttering something about a forgotten scroll on the 18th Goblin War and it's Influence on Magic.  
  
All through History of Magic with Ravenclaw, while Professor Binns droned on about the 21st Goblin War (this one had actually lasted a day and a half and managed to have about 30 "major battles"), Harry could feel Seamus's eyes on him. He focused on the sound of Hermione's quill scratching notes (she had long since given up and let Ron and Harry copy them) and Ron's soft snores, making a distinct effort not to turn around.  
  
Miri was a helpful distraction. The fire-lizard, though still a baby, was very curious. She flitted around the room, annoying some students and making others smile.   
  
When class was dismissed and all of the sleeping students woken up by one friend or another, Miri perched back on Harry's shoulder.  
  
~Did you have fun, Miri? ~ Harry asked, and smiled at her enthusiastic response. ~Do you mind going to Potions, then? Quentin will be there. ~  
  
~I'll go ~ Miri told him happily.   
  
Harry noticed a few stares as he continued walking, but Hermione (who'd been waking Ron) and a newly awoken Ron quickly caught up.   
  
"Potions," Ron grumbled. "I'd bet anything that Snape personally requested this schedule."  
  
Harry had to agree. Gryffindor/Slytherin seventh year Potions was last period on Friday, and they had Double Potions first thing Monday. Snape really could be a sadistic prat.  
  
They walked in a few steps after Crabbe and Goyle, and Snape opened his mouth to take points off for being late out of habit, then looked at Harry and snapped it shut.   
  
Ron turned to look at Harry. "What'd you do?" he asked excitedly.   
  
Harry just shook his head as he whispered, "After Potions."  
  
They took their seats, and Quentin flew over and began hissing at Harry. Soon, Miri had joined in.   
  
~Hi Quentin, ~ Harry smiled. He saw Snape glowering and quickly hushed the Snargons.   
  
Quentin flew back to land on Draco's shoulder, and Miri, not finished, followed him. They talked to each other while Draco tried ineffectually to ask them to be quiet. Finally he looked over at Harry.  
  
~Quentin, Miri come here. ~ Harry called.  
  
Snape looked annoyed at the interruption, and before Harry could ask the Snargons to please keep it down, he snapped, "Potter, if you and Mr. Malfoy can't quiet your pets, the least you could do is sit together so that they aren't disturbing the rest of the class."   
  
Within a few seconds, the seating arrangements had been changed and Harry found himself at the front of the classroom next to Draco. Neither Miri nor Quentin seemed to notice the humans' discomfort, and hissed happily.  
  
~Sorry Miri, Quent, but would you mind keeping it down a bit? I don't know about Draco, but I need to pass this class. ~  
  
Both Snargons obeyed, flying to the back of the classroom to continue their conversation, and Harry could once again hear Snape. He preferred the fire-lizards.   
  
"You may now begin, and remember, every pair will be testing their own potions," Snape said with a disturbing smile. Nearly everyone looked towards Neville, who wasn't even worried. By the end of the lesson, he knew his cauldron would have exploded and there wouldn't be any potion to test.   
  
"What potion are we making?" Harry asked Draco, leaning over to catch a glimpse of his notes.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, "Honestly, Potter, I don't know how you made it to seventh year."  
  
"Well, honestly, neither do I," Harry responded with a small grin. "So, what potion?"  
  
Draco snickered and answered, "This," handing his notes to Harry.  
  
Harry glanced at it quickly and groaned. "You take notes like Hermione."  
  
"Read them Potter. And then get the ingredients."  
  
Harry looked at him incredulously. "So you can what, sit on your lazy arse and do nothing?"  
  
Ron, who heard this, leaned over to Hermione and muttered, "All back to normal." She ignored him.  
  
On the other side of the room, Draco was answering, "No, I'll do the real work. You just fetch and carry."  
  
"I'm your slave now? I don't think so, Malfoy." Harry's mind immediately came up with some interesting scenarios to try out *that* remark, as did Draco's. He stood hurriedly, mumbling in the direction of the blonde, "I'll get the ingredients."   
  
He quickly grabbed everything listed in Draco's notes and headed back, still reading the parchment to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Suddenly he walked into a black-cloaked, greasy-haired wall.   
  
"25 points from Gryffindor for your inattentiveness Potter!" Snape barked. "And detention tonight at nine for attempting to cause bodily harm to a teacher!"  
  
Having passed "bad day" around the time he woke, and crossed into the top ten somewhere between Transfiguration and lunch, Harry was quickly nearing one of the five worst days of his life. And so he looked back at Snape calmly and replied, "No."  
  
Snape looked at him in shock. No one ever talked back to him. "50 points from Gryffindor for your disrespect!"  
  
"No!"  
  
Snape opened his mouth to reply, and found that he couldn't speak. He rounded on the class furiously, only to see his godson standing, wand pointed at him. "Let him speak, Sev. This is amusing."  
  
The whole class froze. Most of the Gryffindors looked caught between laughter and horror, and the Slytherins couldn't decide who to side with – their Prince or their Head of House.  
  
Harry leaned in and said in a low voice, "I'll be here tonight, under the guise of a detention if you wish. But stop bloody taking points from Gryffindor, or I'll tell McGonagall about that picture you have of her." At Snape's confused look, he added, "You know. *That* one." He was making this up as he went along, and figured McGonagall would be the angriest. He could always fake evidence later.  
  
Harry turned toward Draco, who called, "Finite Incantatum."  
  
Snape sputtered quietly, "But how do you know. . ."  
  
Harry smiled triumphantly, and then thought about it. Suddenly he felt sick. Trying to banish thoughts of McGonagall and Snape from his head, he barely heard the Potions Professor snarl murderously, "100 points to Gryffindor for Potter's Slytherin-like attitude."  
  
None of the students were sure how to take that. Really, it was a compliment to Slytherin and an insult to Gryffindor, but it didn't particularly matter, because Gryffindor got the points.  
  
Standing up, Seamus suddenly yelled, "Go Harry!" He was immediately forced back into his seat by Snape's enraged glare.   
  
Harry blushed for the thousandth time that day, a testament to how bad it had been, and walked back to his and Draco's table. "Thanks," he whispered, suddenly exhausted.   
  
Draco only nodded, seeming to understand how Harry felt. He looked towards the dark-haired boy to ask for his notes when he realized something was different. "Where are your glasses Potter? No wonder you ran into Snape."  
  
"I can see," Harry replied defensively. "Hermione fixed my eyes magically because Ron decided he needed to free me from your spell and accidentally murdered my glasses."  
  
Draco sniggered and then told him, "How interesting. Blaise thinks I'm under a spell of *yours*. He knows better than to throw spells at me though."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked curiously as he continued chopping nightshade. Looking down at his work he asked, more to himself than Draco, "Isn't this deadly?"  
  
Draco shook his head in exasperation. "Really, it's a wonder you haven't poisoned yourself. Yes that's poisonous, but not if you mix it with this," he held up a small amount of dragon's blood. "And the last time Blaise tossed a spell at me, I told him if he ever did it again, I'd transfigure him into a girl."  
  
"Is that possible?"  
  
"Not that I know of, but he doesn't know that."  
  
Harry laughed. "I can just see Zabini's face if you turned him into a girl."  
  
Draco smirked. "Here Potter, we need to add this now." He pointed to something that looked suspiciously like marijuana.   
  
"Is that what I think it is?"  
  
"Oregano?" Draco joked. "No, it's catnip."  
  
"Catnip, nightshade, and dragon's blood? What potion are we making, Malfoy?"  
  
"Did you even read the notes? It says right there," he pointed to the top of the scroll.  
  
Harry looked to where Draco was pointing. "A calming potion?"  
  
"Something like a sedative, without any side effects. Now, just the heartsease and powdered unicorn hoof . . ."  
  
As Harry began stirring, there was a huge explosion from behind them. No one even jumped; it was such a common occurrence.  
  
"Bloody hell Longbottom, there aren't even any explosive ingredients *in* this potion!" Snape shouted. Fury still laced his tone, but something that sounded like exasperation was forcing itself in too.   
  
Harry turned around and his eyes widened. Quickly he poked Draco as he said, "Malfoy, you have to see this."  
  
Draco looked over his shoulder and burst out laughing. "Great Merlin, Sev, you look like a Hufflepuff!"  
  
"Detention, Malfoy!" Snape thundered before turning back to Neville. "Why is everything bloody *pink* with you, Longbottom?" he continued his rant. "Pink robes, pink hair, pink fluffy bunnies tattooed on my forehead!"  
  
Harry bit his tongue, trying not to laugh as he remembered that incident.   
  
Neville didn't even look frightened. Of course, it was rather hard to be frightened of a bright pink-skinned Potions Professor, even if that Professor was Snape.  
  
"Bottle your potions!" Snape all but screamed. "You have five minutes to be out of my sight!"  
  
Everyone quickly obeyed, and there was a rush for the door. No one wanted to stay in the same room, or really even the same castle, with a maniacally furious Snape. Even Quentin and Miri flew quickly to their masters' shoulders.   
  
Once outside the door, Seamus grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him into a corner, Miri following behind. "Is what you said earlier today true, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered, staring intently at the stone floor.   
  
"Then would you like to grab a butterbeer with me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?"  
  
Harry's head snapped up. "Ow," he complained, rubbing his neck as Miri laughed. "Yeah, Seamus, I'd like that." Then he though of something. "Is this-I mean are you-is it"  
  
"Yeah, Harry," Seamus answered with a smile. "I'm asking you out."  
  
"Okay," Harry grinned brightly. They started walking slowly towards Gryffindor Tower.   
  
"So," Seamus asked, "What did you say to Snape? I don't think he's ever given points to Gryffindor in his whole life."  
  
Harry just smiled mysteriously.  
  
When they walked into the common room, Harry was immediately accosted by Ron and Hermione, both demanding to know what had happened in Potions. "Bye Seam!" he called as he was dragged away.  
  
~ You run around too much, ~ Miri complained, but Harry could hear the happiness in her voice.  
  
A laughing Seamus waved and then walked over to where Dean and Neville were playing Exploding Snap.   
  
Once in Hermione's room, Harry began to tell them everything that had happened the night before while Miri landed in front of the fire. He left out the Dursleys' role in everything, and the fact that Draco had obviously tried to kill himself before, finishing with, "So, Malfoy isn't a Death Eater."  
  
"Well, it's not that hard to believe," Hermione said, "He's too arrogant to serve someone else. I always wondered how his father had ever managed to become a Death Eater in the first place."  
  
Ron was only partly listening. "Why didn't you tell us about your other . . . attempts, Harry? We would have helped." He sounded hurt.  
  
"I know, Ron," Harry sighed. "I just-I was so much happier once I was back here, and I didn't want to drag the bad memories back. You guys helped me more than you know. And last night was a spell."  
  
Hermione, sensing his discomfort, changed the subject. "What in the world did you say to Snape? I can understand him not taking points at the beginning of class, because of last night, but he *gave* you points."  
  
Harry, looking faintly disgusted, replied, "Believe me, you'd rather not know."  
  
"You didn't . . . offer anything, right?" Ron asked worriedly.  
  
"No! Gods no, Ron, you're going to make me sick! I just said something about him and McGonagall."  
  
"You're right. I'd rather not know that," Ron said, eyes wide.  
  
Hermione just looked faintly ill.   
  
They changed the subject quickly, talking about (or complaining about in the boys' case) assignments and the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.   
  
As they walked out to go to dinner, a sleepy Miri now perched on his shoulder, Harry added, "Oh, and Seamus asked me on a bit of a date tomorrow, for Hogsmeade."   
  
"Congratulations mate!" Ron cried, slapping him on the back. Miri hissed her irritation and settled back down.  
  
"Good for you, Harry," Hermione smiled.   
  
In the Great Hall, Harry sat next to Seamus and Ron, Hermione sitting next to Ginny and Dean across from him. Seamus put an arm around him, so Miri exasperatedly flew over to perch on Hermione.  
  
Soon, though, they realized that Harry couldn't use his right arm with Seamus' left across him, and Seamus couldn't eat with his left hand. Both of them laughed, and joined in the usual Friday conversations – Quidditch Practice, Hogsmeade, upcoming parties and the like.  
  
At the end of dinner, Dumbledore stood. "I have a special announcement for all of you seventh years. The rest of you may go."  
  
There was a rustling as the entire group of the first through sixth years shuffled out of the Hall, looking curious.  
  
"As you know from Care of Magical Creatures, Snargons are often kept as pets. After speaking with them through our resident Parseltongue," everyone looked at Harry, "some have decided to stay, and will be choosing which students to stay with."  
  
Ten Snargons flew in, a rainbow of colors.   
  
Two flew to Slytherin, one, a rose color with soft blue eyes, went to Blaise. He looked around, obviously ready to fight anyone who made fun of her, but no one did. The other, a swirling pale blue and lavender with golden eyes, went to Pansy.  
  
Two went to Gryffindor. The first, a brilliant green, landed carefully on a startled Neville, and the other, black with purple eyes, went to Hermione, whose expression of shock rivaled Neville's.  
  
Three went to Ravenclaw, a yellow with dark blue eyes to Cho Chang, and two to students that, Harry realized with a start, he didn't know.   
  
The same thing happened at the Hufflepuff table. A silvery-white with dark green eyes went to Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Harry didn't know the other two students. He recognized everyone, and had probably talked to them all at one time or another, but he couldn't come up with names.  
  
How odd, he though. Years of rivalry with the Slytherins meant that he knew every Slytherin seventh year's name, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, the more neutral Houses, were also the less known Houses.   
  
Everyone with a Snargon rushed to Harry, wanting to know names. Cho's was Sunny, the other two Ravenclaws' (Adam and Rachel, apparently) were named Elf and Casey. Blaise's was, of course, Rose, and Pansy's was Mel (short for Melissa, she told Harry). Justin's was Snow, which surprised Harry, who doubted that the fire-lizard had ever even seen snow. He stuck to his name, though, and Harry informed Justin with a shrug. The other two (whose names he didn't catch) had Snargons called Whitney and Jack. Finally he managed to get to his own House. Hermione's was named Kerri and Neville's was named Matt.   
  
Author's Note: Okay, this was an awkward place to end, but I realized when I was trying to upload it that I hadn't left a good break. Also, I know that cannon Draco most likely wouldn't get the Muggle references, but for now, it's a case of know thy enemy. Or at least those who Lucius considered the enemy. The whole glasses thing belongs to someone else, although I think in that person's story it was Draco who yelled Finite Incantatum. If anyone knows the other, I'd like to attribute the idea to them, but I can't find the story. Also, reviews are welcome, as are ideas. 


	5. chapter 5

Warning: This chapter contains a small sex-scene, if it squicks you, don't read it. It is rated R, believe me, I've read much worse under R ratings, so I think I'm ok.   
  
When they finally got back to their common room, Kerri, Matt and Miri flying behind them, Seamus, Harry, Dean, and Neville started a game of Exploding Snap while Ron challenged Hermione to chess. They were always interesting to watch, because so far Hermione was the only one who'd ever beaten him, and there was usually a lot of yelling. The game wasn't over when Harry left, though Ron appeared to be ahead, much to Hermione's chagrin.   
  
"Bye, Harry," Seamus called. "Don't let Snape kill you, or he'll have a very angry Gryffindor to deal with."  
  
Harry laughed and waved as he walked out the portrait hole, Miri pulling away from her game of Chase with the other two to follow.  
  
~You can stay and play if you like, ~ Harry offered.  
  
Miri declined, replying, ~I want to see Quentin. ~  
  
Harry didn't answer, doubting Draco would actually have to serve detention. But when he got to the classroom door, there was Draco, Quentin in the air behind him. "He actually held you to it?" Harry asked, startled.  
  
Draco nodded, a faint trace of annoyance in his eyes.  
  
"But he's your father, well kind of, anyway," Harry protested.  
  
"That's what I told him. His reply was something along the lines of 'I could never look like a bloody Hufflepuff, and you shouldn't call me Sev in class, I'm your Professor, and I don't look like a Hufflepuff!'"   
  
Harry laughed, and a still pink Snape opened the door and ushered them in. "I burned the damned picture, Potter, and if you ever threaten me again, I will announce, in the Great Hall, that you hit on me."  
  
Draco suddenly looked interested. "You did what??"  
  
Harry blanched.  
  
Snape smiled joyfully, happy to have the upper hand again. This only managed to terrify Harry more, because a smiling pink Snape is a rare and rather nightmarish image.   
  
Snickering, Draco admonished, "Now Sev, stop smiling, you're scaring the Gryffindor."  
  
This of course only made Snape smile wider.   
  
Having grown accustom to sight, at least slightly, Harry questioned, "Aren't we supposed to be figuring out who's trying to kill me?"  
  
Snape lost his cheerful expression on hearing that, and after looking pointedly at Harry until the Snargons were called in, he closed the door. "I've managed to remove the spells from the dagger, but whoever cast them somehow erased their magical signature." He smiled darkly and added, "Since this is also a detention, and class was dismissed rather early today, you will be testing the potions."  
  
Draco looked horrified, which prompted Harry to ask him why.  
  
"Do you know what can happen if they're made wrong, Potter?" he demanded.  
  
"Umm . . .no?"  
  
"I should have guessed as much. The effects can range anywhere from a truth serum to poison."  
  
Harry looked at Snape. "I always knew you hated me, but isn't this a rather obvious way of killing me? And what are you going to do if Malfoy dies?"  
  
Snape considered answering, 'bury the bodies', but decided that he had scared Potter enough for one night. "You won't die; I've got a general antidote that will absorb the potion."   
  
"But will you actually give it to me?" Harry asked under his breath.  
  
"Don't worry," Draco replied cheerfully, having heard Harry's question. "Sev knows as well as I do that you're our best hope of winning the House Cup."  
  
Harry grinned and responded, "Not if he gives out points like he did today."  
  
Snape glowered and told him, "That's been taken care of. Now get to work, I'll write out a list of all students with Death Eater parents." He walked into a back office, leaving the boys to themselves.  
  
On his desk were fifteen potions in varying shades of blue, and Harry studied them warily. "Seven each and whoever doesn't get poisoned has to take the last one?" He suggested.   
  
"All right," Draco agreed, "but if we both get poisoned, then what?"  
  
"We'll split it up and both take it," Harry stated firmly.   
  
"So we can both be poisoned and die because there was no one to give us the antidote? Brilliant, Potter," Draco sneered.  
  
"Well, Snape's not going to take it! Do you have a better idea?" Harry asked exasperatedly.  
  
A mischievous expression blossomed on Draco's face, and Harry looked at him guardedly. "What, Malfoy?"  
  
"I think Sev *should* test the last one for us. I have an idea . . ."  
  
A few minutes later they started, having warned Quentin and Miri not to worry if they started acting strangely.   
  
Harry gulped down the first one, and was immediately dizzy. "Look Malfoy, there's three of you," he giggled, before passing out.  
  
Draco caught him instinctively and was holding him against his chest when Snape walked back in. "hmm, déjà vu," the Professor commented, an unreadable look in his eyes.   
  
Draco didn't reply, instead he set Harry down in a chair and gave him one of the antidotes as Snape left the room again.  
  
Harry blinked a few times. "Thanks. I seem to be saying that to you a lot lately," he added, smiling softly.   
  
Draco nodded, not quite knowing what to say. It was strange to discover that Potter wasn't an egotistical, bragging prat who'd always had everything.   
  
Watching Draco, Harry was having the same revelation. Who knew that the icy blonde Prince of Slytherin wasn't a cruel, spoiled brat?  
  
Having downed five potions each, Harry was feeling slightly more confident. Neither of them has been poisoned yet, although Draco had gotten stuck with one that made him tell the truth, which had been interesting. Harry had discovered that his closest friends were actually Pansy and Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle really were as dumb as they looked, and Draco had always considered Snape more of a father than Lucius.   
  
Snape, who'd been standing in the back of the room, walked quietly back out, a tender look in his eyes.  
  
Besides that incident, though, Draco had only gotten potions that did what they were supposed to, and Harry suspected he wasn't choosing at random. Harry himself had ended up floating around the room ("always knew you were a bit of a lightweight, Potter."), passing out again, and actually finding two potions that worked.   
  
While they recorded what the potion had done, Harry and Draco talked. They shied away from difficult topics like home life, and mostly stuck to Quidditch and the Snargons' antics. It was friendly, though, and Harry was surprised at how comfortable he felt around the Slytherin.   
  
Finished recording information on the latest potion he'd taken, Draco looked up from his parchment. "Your turn, Potter."  
  
Harry grabbed a vial and held it up. "Cheers," he joked before swallowing it down. Almost instantly he moaned.   
  
"What's wrong?" Draco demanded, a faint thread of worry lacing his voice.  
  
"Mmm-think it's a-mmm yeah- stimulant." Harry's eyes fell closed as he leaned back against a table.   
  
Draco took a moment to appreciate the sight of the boy before him as he went for an antidote. Harry's arms were braced against the table, showing off toned Quidditch muscles, his black hair was wild as ever, and his eyes shone green through half-closed lids. Shaking his head, he grabbed a vial.   
  
Against the table, Harry could feel phantom hands running over his body. His hips arched as he felt a light caress across his inner thigh and he bit his lip, trying to be quiet.   
  
Walking back to Harry, Draco wasn't paying attention, and cursed as he caught his foot on a table leg. When he managed to catch himself, he was between the other boy's legs.  
  
Harry thrust against Draco's thigh, whimpering in the back of his throat. Draco pretended to ignore it, pretended to ignore the fact that he was getting hard too. Harry stilled instantly, breath coming in harsh pants as he asked hoarsely, "Antidote?"  
  
Draco nodded and held the vial to the dark haired boy's lips. Harry swallowed and Draco instantly stepped back, not wanting him to notice that he had his own . . . problems.   
  
Thankfully, the ghostly hands had stopped, although Harry was still painfully hard. Eyes still closed, he whispered, "Snape and McGonagall, Snape and McGonagall, Snape and McGonagall." Within a few seconds he felt faintly sick, but at least all traces of his arousal were gone.  
  
He looked up, mortified blush spreading across his face as he said, "Oh, gods Malfoy, I'm *so* sorry."  
  
"S'ok," Draco replied distractedly. "What were you saying?"  
  
Harry figured he owed the blonde at least that much, and so he told him what had happened in Potions earlier.  
  
Draco looked disgusted, though inwardly he was grateful for one side-effect of the story. "So, Snape and McGonagall?"  
  
Harry shuddered in revulsion. "Ugh, don't make me think about it." After scrawling an edited version of the potion's affects, he turned and grinned at Draco. "Your turn."  
  
Draco grabbed one apprehensively and studied it before echoing Harry. "Cheers," he said as he downed the contents. This time he was the one who swayed, and the last thing he felt before passing out was strong arms closing around him.   
  
Harry held Draco awkwardly. The blonde, not having been malnourished most of his life, was a few inches taller. Laying Draco gently across a table, he went to the front and grabbed an antidote, thankful for Snape's pessimism. Though there had only been fifteen potions, there were about twenty antidotes on the Professor's desk.   
  
An antidote in hand, Harry went back to Draco and held him up with one arm, pouring a small amount of the liquid into his mouth. Swallowing instinctively, Draco coughed and came to still resting against Harry's arm. He started to say 'you could have just put me in Snape's chair' which was what he'd been doing with Harry, but instead just said, "Thanks, Potter."  
  
Harry looked surprised, and then smiled warmly. "You're welcome."  
  
A no longer pink Snape walked in, took one look at them and growled sarcastically, "Oh, how sweet," before leaving.   
  
Draco jumped off of the table and looked at Harry, who waited for the cutting remark expectantly. "Greasy git needs to get laid."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped as he stared at Draco in shock for a second before bursting out in laughter. Draco joined in as Harry gasped, "I really didn't need that mental image, Malfoy."  
  
After a few minutes, they calmed and Draco passed Harry a vial. "You're up, Potter."  
  
"Who made this one?" Harry asked. He hadn't been paying attention to that before, but after the last time (made possible by Crabbe and Goyle) he was a bit more cautious.   
  
Draco checked the list and answered, "We did." Smirking, he added, "Do you trust me?"  
  
Thinking for a second, Harry answered quietly, "Yeah," before taking the potion.   
  
Draco jerked around, startled at the reply, but Harry didn't notice.   
  
"Hmm, I like this one," He informed the Slytherin. "It works exactly right. Good job, Malfoy."  
  
Inwardly Draco was warmed by the praise, though he just smirked and said, "Of course." Sticking his nose up and doing a passable impression of Lucius he added, "Everything I do is perfect." He ruined it with a small laugh, and he and Harry talked softly, waiting for the potion to wear off.  
  
Quentin and Miri, who'd eventually fallen asleep near the back of the room, flew tiredly to sit near the two boys.   
  
~What are you doing? ~ Quentin asked curiously.   
  
~ Testing potions, ~ Harry pointed to the two blue potions left. ~We might be here for a while; we're trying to find out who's threatening me, too. ~   
  
Both Quentin and Miri hovered protectively. ~We'll keep you safe Harry, ~ Miri told him loyally, and Quentin turned to hiss at Draco, ~ We'll keep you safe, too, Draco. ~  
  
"What did he say?" Draco asked curiously.   
  
"They said they'd keep us safe." Harry answered. Seeing Draco's confusion, he added, "I told them we might be here for a bit longer to find out who was threatening me."  
  
Draco smiled at Quentin and said, "Thanks," as he stroked the green fire-lizard.   
  
Harry petted Miri and looked at Draco. "One left for you."  
  
That too, worked, and Draco uncovered the pot of tea he'd been boiling at Snape's desk. After pouring two cups, he dumped the last vial straight into the pot and called, "Sev, do you want some tea?"  
  
Snape walked in and sat down, pouring himself a cup. He raised it to his mouth and then set it back down without drinking any. "Nice try, Draco," he said dryly.  
  
Draco snickered and Harry smiled. "It was worth a shot."  
  
Snape just rolled his eyes. At least they were getting along, but he wasn't sure how he felt about his godson getting along with a Potter. "Here's a list," he handed it to Draco, and Harry moved to look over his shoulder.  
  
Draco studied it for a few minutes and then handed it back. "Millicent's the only one smart enough to actually accomplish the kind of spells you were talking about, especially to erase her signature."  
  
"What is that?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
Snape sneered, but Draco answered easily, "Whenever you do a spell on an object, you leave an imprint, like a fingerprint, on it. It doesn't always show up if it's directly on another person, although," he motioned towards Harry's forehead, "sometimes if the wizard is powerful enough, it can."  
  
"So basically, we have to wait until she tries again, and hope that she doesn't remove her signature?" Harry asked.  
  
"If she did it once, Potter, she most likely will do it again. We need to catch her at it." The Potions Master informed him.   
  
They discussed possible tactics for a while until Snape finally said, "I'm going to go to Dumbledore tomorrow and discuss it with him."  
  
Harry nodded resignedly, they needed Dumbledore. After a few more minutes, the Professor declared their detention over, and Harry and Draco walked out into the hall.   
  
As they were about to part ways, Quentin asked, ~ What are your names in human? ~  
  
~His is~ "Draco," ~And mine is~ "Harry," he answered.  
  
Draco looked up, surprised at hearing his first name, but liking the sound of it.   
  
"Sorry Malfoy, Quentin and Miri were asking."  
  
"No, its okay, after last night and then tonight," he raised an eyebrow suggestively, "I think you can call me Draco."  
  
Harry flushed. "Sorry about that M-Draco. And you can call me Harry."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Harry, it was just a potion."   
  
"Goodnight, Draco."  
  
"Night, P- Harry."  
  
They went their separate ways, thoughts full of each other.   
  
When Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room at midnight, Ron and Hermione were in basically the same position, and everyone else was sprawled in front of the fire.   
  
"Please tell me this isn't the same game," Harry teased, sitting next to Seamus, who wrapped an arm around him. Harry leaned into the other teen contentedly.  
  
"Yeah," Ron answered distractedly. "Just . . . Aha! Checkmate."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to Harry. "How was detention with Malfoy?"  
  
"Not bad, surprisingly," Harry answered. "We had to test the potions from this afternoon." He decided not to mention specifics. "Miri and Quentin had fun together, too." Catching Ron's look, he added, "And Draco was treating Quentin just fine."  
  
"He's Draco now?" The question came not from Ron, but Seamus, a hint of jealousy in his voice.  
  
"I swear I don't have a crush on him, Seam," Harry promised, looking the Irish boy in the eyes. "There was just a thing last night, and Draco saved my life. I figured the least I could do was use his first name."  
  
All of the Gryffindors looked nervously at Harry, but it was Hermione who assured them, "It wasn't another Death Eater attack like last year. And Malfoy isn't a Death Eater."   
  
Calmer now, the conversation turned to tomorrow's plans, and before long Harry found himself yawning. Finally he gave in and said, "I'm going up to bed, didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
Seamus nodded and moved his arm. "Night Harry."  
  
"Night Seam," Harry smiled and went up to the boys' dorm. After changing into his cotton pyjamas he crawled into bed, closing the curtain around him. Miri had decided to stay downstairs, curled up with Kerri and Matt near the fire. Remembering how he'd woken up that morning, Harry muttered, "Silencio."   
  
He was back in the Potions classroom, and took *that* potion, knowing what it would do. Draco pressed him up against the wall, and soon Harry's soft groans were swallowed by the blonde's skilled mouth. Draco sucked on his tongue, shooting lightening bolts of lust through his stomach.  
  
Breaking away, panting for air, Harry moaned as Draco's hands found their way under his shirt. Caressing his chest, Draco palmed his nipples and Harry gasped, rocking against the taller boy.   
  
Slowly he removed Harry's shirt and licked down the path his hands had taken.  
  
"Gods Draco! Mm, so good . . ." Harry's body hummed with pleasure as he ran his hands through soft blonde hair. He cried out as Draco laid a hand against the bulge in his jeans, thrusting and rubbing himself against the other's palm.   
  
Draco moved backwards, and Harry whimpered at the loss of contact. Smirking, Draco slowly unzipped the dark-haired boy's jeans. Impatiently Harry wriggled his hips, the jeans falling to the floor. He stepped out of them and pulled Draco up for another fiery kiss.   
  
This time it was Draco who pulled away, going down on his knees. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the look in those silver eyes and realized what he had planned. His head fell back against the dungeon wall with a crack, but he didn't feel it, didn't feel anything except for the warm mouth closed around him.   
  
Draco took him in as deep as he could, sucking and licking as Harry's hands fisted in his hair.   
  
Within a few minutes Harry came, screaming Draco's name-  
  
-And woke up, sweat soaked and sticky, body still shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.  
  
He mumbled a quick cleaning charm, thinking sardonically, bet Flitwick didn't think we'd be using it for this. Deciding that the dream meant absolutely nothing and he should try to forget about it, he drifted back to sleep.   
  
Harry woke the next morning to frantic shouts, his dream forgotten in the abrupt waking. Sleepily, he removed the Silencing Charm and pulled open his curtains. He blinked and shook his head, slightly disoriented at being able to see immediately. "What's going on?"  
  
"Harry, you're still in bed?? Get up, get up!"  
  
"What's going on?" Harry repeated, grabbing a frantic Ron. "Ron! Breathe!" The red head obeyed, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. "Okay. Now, tell me what happened."  
  
"Dumbledore decided last night that if we could pack in time, the seventh years can spend the whole weekend in Hogsmeade, he fixed up the Shrieking Shack, and there's enough rooms for all of us, but we've only got half an hour to get ready!"  
  
Harry grabbed his wand, said a quick cleaning charm in the direction of his trunk, and then grabbed a pack. With another spell, perfectly folded robes floated to him, and he carefully placed them in the pack. "Done."  
  
All of his dorm mates stared at him in shock.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That's all you're bringing?" Ron asked disbelievingly.  
  
"What else do I need?"  
  
"Pillow, pyjamas, toothbrush, hair-" here Ron broke off and joked, "Well, I guess you don't need a hairbrush, it's not going to make a difference."  
  
Harry ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, and Seamus appeared beside him.  
  
"I like it this way," the Irish boy informed Ron, running his own hand though Harry's hair.   
  
Ron rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Great Merlin, a cutesy couple, save us now."  
  
There was more rushing around, not helped by the Matt and Miri following closely behind and nearly colliding with each other and the boys, but everybody was ready and standing in the Entrance Hall within a half-hour, talking excitedly.   
  
"Did you two bring your Transfiguration assignment?" Hermione asked them as Kerri hissed a greeting to Harry.  
  
Ron shook his head and Harry looked at them blankly. "There's a Transfiguration assignment?" ~Hi, Kerri, ~ he added as an afterthought, meeting purple eyes.  
  
"That's rather disconcerting, Harry," Hermione informed him, and Ron looked as though he agreed.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"You switching from English to Parseltongue without even noticing," Ron answered as they started moving.   
  
"Well, Kerri said 'good morning'," Harry responded, looking around for Seamus. "I just told her 'hi'." Seeing Draco he gave a small wave, and both Seamus and Draco waved back, not seeing each other. He started walking in that direction and was yanked back by Ron.  
  
Miri hissed and Harry looked at his friend questioningly.   
  
"Sorry, mate, but there's only room for three in a carriage and Seamus already has Dean and Pansy."  
  
"Pansy?" Harry asked incredulously. Sure enough, Seamus was climbing into a carriage with the Slytherin girl, who had somehow managed to outgrow her doglike looks and was actually quite pretty. "Huh," he shrugged, climbing in with Hermione and Ron. "So, tell me about this Transfiguration assignment. . ."   
  
  
  
So, what'd you think of my first attempt at a sex scene? The next update might take awhile, I'm not sure, ideas are still welcome. Next chapter: the plot makes a guest appearance! (Probably . . .) 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, angst ahead, and to everyone who hates Seamus - me too! He snuck in and wrote himself into my fic. ::glares at Irish prat ahem I mean boy:: So, please note that if any Seamus scenes suck, that is because I don't particularly like writing them, but I promise, they're needed, and this is an H/D fic!  
  
Shifting uncomfortably, Harry thought about his date with Seamus. It had gone surprisingly well, the two drinking Butterbeer and laughing while surrounded by supportive friends.   
  
He felt bad about not being more open, but the last thing he wanted was his new relationship splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet, and his new boyfriend agreed. So far, only Gryffindors knew, and just the seventh years at that, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time.   
  
Apparently Dumbledore's idea of "enough rooms" was three – one for girls, one for boys, and one for chaperoning staff. He suspected it was yet another venture into the House unity ploy, and had to smile. The Gryffindors were against one wall, the Slytherins on the opposite side, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw between.   
  
Currently he was lying on the floor, Seamus's arm draped loosely over his waist, staring into the darkness. He wished he could sleep, sink into his boyfriend's comfortable embrace, but restlessness flowed through him.   
  
He suspected it was partially because of the memories he had of this place. So much had happened in the Shrieking Shack, and thoughts of Remus and Sirius tormented him.   
  
After Sirius's death, Remus had sunk into a bit of a depression. Harry still saw him sometimes, generally after Order meetings, but there was always something missing. An emptiness behind the fond smile, a blankness in the weary eyes.  
  
Sighing, Harry resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to sleep any time soon and stood, careful not to wake Seamus. It was nice that he didn't have to worry about Miri, she'd hissed a goodnight and gone off with Quentin. At least the Snargons seemed to appreciate House unity.   
  
He left the room and wandered a bit. Coming to an unlocked door, he curiously walked in and froze.  
  
This was the room. The room where he'd nearly killed Sirius the first time, back in third year.   
  
His throat clenched painfully and his eyes burned. I don't cry, Harry told himself fiercely.   
  
And it was true. He hadn't cried after fourth year and Cedric's death, hadn't cried after fifth year, when Sirius died and the Dursleys encouraged him to kill himself, hadn't cried after sixth year when Vernon had found a new . . . use for him. The other night was a fluke, brought on by the spell.  
  
But from tightly closed eyelids, a single tear fell, and then another and another while Harry clenched his jaw painfully to keep from making any sound.   
  
Sinking to the floor on legs that wouldn't support him anymore, Harry curled up in a tight ball, trying to lock the hurt inside.   
  
"Draco," Blaise complained, "I'm tired. And bored. Can we please just go back and go to sleep?"  
  
Draco considered bringing up the fact that coming along had been Blaise's idea in the first place, but took pity on his friend. "Go back, I'll be there in a minute."  
  
"No, you won't," Blaise answered quietly, "But I'll let you be." He studied his pale friend for a moment, wondering if he should tell him. Tell him that both he and Pansy knew he rarely slept, most likely to avoid the nightmares. Tell him that they noticed he didn't eat enough, too preoccupied with other things. Tell him they worried. Instead he shook his head and muttered, "Goodnight." Slytherins didn't have feelings, after all, and if they did, they certainly didn't show them.   
  
Walking away, Draco knew Blaise was right, he wouldn't be back for hours. He told himself he just couldn't sleep because of all of the people. He'd grown accustom to having his own room, after all.   
  
He saw an open door, and though it lit a spark of curiosity in him, he knew better than to go in. His father had taught him the price of snooping many times, and Draco knew that curiosity didn't kill just cats. In fact it had threatened to kill two/three/four year old boys many times, under the guise of Lucius.   
  
As he passed, though, he saw a dark haired boy curled in the corner, and his first thought was, Oh Merlin, Blaise. He grabbed his wand and stepped into the room carefully, knowing that whatever had attacked the black haired boy could just as easily get him.   
  
Getting closer to the boy on the floor, Draco realized it couldn't be Blaise. For one, Blaise had gone in the other direction, and he wasn't that small either. Acting on instinct, wishing Quentin was with him, he called softly, "Harry?"  
  
Harry looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tears still falling slowly down his face.   
  
Draco crossed the room without knowing how; it seemed that one second he was in the door and the next he was kneeling next to Harry, reaching for his wrists. The relief that flowed through him when he realized they were unmarked startled him, but he ignored it. "What happened?"   
  
Green eyes met silver as Harry thought about the fact that Hermione and Ron wouldn't have asked. And maybe that was the problem, they always assumed they knew. 'Oh, Harry,' they would say. 'We're really sorry about Sirius, but it's time for you to move on now.' Well, they didn't know, and he couldn't move on, and here was someone asking, someone who only seconds ago had been afraid he was trying to kill himself. "Sirius," he whispered, as silent sobs wracked his slim frame.  
  
Reaching for Draco's wrist, Harry felt the scars there, and it was comforting. Tribute to the fact that he wasn't the only one who'd had a rough life, wasn't the only one who'd wanted to die.   
  
Tentatively, Draco wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulders, hardly noticing that the other boy was still grasping his right wrist as though it were a lifeline. Harry curled into him, crying quietly into his shoulder. Having absolutely no idea what to do, a vague memory came back to him, one of Sev comforting him when he'd been six and fallen off his broom. "Shh," he whispered, "it's okay; it'll be alright, shh."  
  
Dimly Harry heard the words, but couldn't summon enough energy to tell Draco that it wasn't alright, couldn't be, because the closest thing he'd ever had to a father was dead and it was all his fault.   
  
Draco didn't know how long they'd been there, but his legs were beginning to tire. He felt for the wall and somehow managed to end up sitting against it, Harry still curled against him and clinging to his wrist. Settling himself back against a wall that was surprisingly comfortable, Draco kept whispering comforting words and wondering how in only three nights he and the Boy-Who-Lived had gone from being rivals to . . . whatever this was.   
  
Harry woke to sunlight streaming through a window he hadn't noticed before, and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. He muttered something unintelligible and snuggled closer to the warm body behind him.  
  
The movement woke Seamus, who mumbled a sleepy, "Mornin' Harry."  
  
" 'lo Seam," Harry replied. Everything that had happened the night before came rushing back, and Harry's eyes widened. Seamus? The last thing he remembered was crying on Draco's shoulder.   
  
He turned to check, and sure enough, there was Seamus, giving him a small smile. He returned it before sitting up, hissing, Miri?   
  
Yes? the Snargon replied, flitting over.   
  
Was Draco with you and Quent all night last night? Harry was beginning to suspect last night must have been a dream, and was surprised to find the thought slightly disappointing.   
  
No, he couldn't sleep so he went out walking. I don't know when he came back, but he's up now. Miri looked towards the other side of the room, at the blonde boy who had just stood up.  
  
Would you mind asking Quent to bring Draco to me this afternoon? I need to talk to him, and you and Quent can play.   
  
Sure, Miri replied, flying over to Quentin.   
  
"What was that?" Seamus asked.  
  
Harry hated the hint of fear in the other boy's voice. "Nothing," he answered tightly. At the hurt expression on his boyfriend's face, he softened. "Just saying good morning, and asking her if she had fun with Quentin."  
  
"Malfoy's fire-lizard?" Seamus questioned, a trace of annoyance in his voice.  
  
"Yes, Seam, Draco's fire-lizard," Harry replied, fighting not to roll his eyes. "Miri and Quentin are friends." He wondered when Seamus had become so judgmental.   
  
"Sorry," Seamus muttered, seeing the irritation in Harry's eyes. "It's just strange to get used you being friends with your self-proclaimed arch-nemesis."  
  
Still faintly annoyed, Harry decided not to refute the claim that he and Draco were friends, though really he wasn't sure. "I don't have time for an arch-nemesis with Voldemort on the loose." He felt a sadistic pleasure when the other boy flinched at the name. Sighing he said, "Just forget it Seamus."  
  
Standing Harry went to get ready, wondering if he'd just broken up with Seamus. The though filled him with regret, but there was a disturbing amount of relief mixed in. Hermione found him at breakfast, sitting at a table by himself. His dark look had scared off even Ron, and Miri was still playing with the rest of the Snargons. They seemed to have a game of tag going.  
  
"What happened last night?" she asked softly.   
  
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not bothering to disguise the tiredness in his voice.  
  
"Don't give me that, Harry, just tell me what's going on," Hermione pleaded. "Something's wrong. You talked back to Snape on Friday, we just found out you tried to kill yourself and Malfoy was the first to know, and now I saw him carrying you last night."  
  
"Well, that answers that, at least," Harry muttered, more to himself that Hermione. "Last night I couldn't sleep, and went walking. I found the room," he put enough emphasis on the words that Hermione nodded, understanding, "and I . . . I broke down."  
  
Hermione looked worried. "It's not good for you to dwell on Sirius's death, it was over a year and a half ago."  
  
"Mione, how am I supposed to get over it?" he demanded. "Tell me how. You and Ron don't even know what it's like to lose a parent; much less grow up an orphan in a home where everyone hates you. Sirius was the closest thing I got to a father, and then he died. Because of me. And do you know what the Dursleys did?"  
  
Hermione shook her head silently, not sure she wanted to know.  
  
"They gave me some pills. And said 'take them, and rid the family of its last freak. You've already taken a life, what's one more?' What's one more?" He repeated softly.  
  
Tears filling her eyes, Hermione replied fiercely, "It's everything to us, Harry. The wizarding world-"  
  
"I'm not your bloody fucking Boy-Who-Lived," Harry snarled, earning more than a few looks, including a worried, silver-eyed one. More quietly, he continued, "I am a seventeen year old orphan who has the most evil wizard in the world trying to kill me, a family," here he smiled sardonically, dry eyes filled with a cutting bitterness, "that wants him to, I think I just broke up with my first boyfriend, and the most comforting person I've found is my 'self-proclaimed arch-nemesis'," He parroted Seamus's words ironically.   
  
Again we forgot, Hermione thought. We forgot that he's had a lifetime of hiding himself away, that he can lie as well as any Slytherin. "What happened last night?" she asked again, deciding to start with the wounds that might be easiest to heal.   
  
"After I fell apart, Draco found me, I don't know why. He-he comforted me, and I must have fallen asleep. I woke up this morning next to Seamus, and after I said good morning, I started talking to Miri. Seamus didn't like me talking in Parseltongue, and when I told him what I was saying, he didn't like that Miri was friends with Quentin, Draco's fire-lizard."  
  
"So you broke up?" Hermione asked incredulously.   
  
"I-I don't know, Mione," Harry finally answered. "Maybe."  
  
Hermione stood up and walked to where Harry was sitting, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Harry, you just fought, it's okay. Couples fight." She thought about asking what was going on with Malfoy, but doubted it would help anything, and the last thing she needed was for Harry to get even more defensive. "If you're going to be friends with Malfoy," she gave a long suffering sigh, making Harry smile, "I guess I can accept that. And so will everyone else, in time."  
  
"I don't know that I'm even friends with him," he replied honestly. "But what about Parseltongue? I'm not giving up Miri just to make Seamus comfortable," he added angrily.   
  
"And you shouldn't have to," Hermione soothed. "He'll get used to that, too, and I hate to sound clichéd, but if he can't, he was never good enough for you in the first place, Harry."  
  
They finished the meal in contemplative silence, Hermione vowing to herself to be a better friend to the boy sitting across from her, and Harry deciding to talk to Seamus later that day.  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'd do it personally, but at the moment I have no internet connection. So, not so much with the plot, but soon, I swear. Also, do you want a happy/fluffy ending or a sad/angsty one?   
  
Please review puppy dog eyes 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Ok, everyone hates Seamus, I get it, and you're all probably going to hate me for the small kiss in this chapter, but I swear, you'll love the way I have planned to get rid of him. Hopefully, anyways. Plus, if they broke up now, so soon, Harry would always wonder if he should have tried harder. Anyways, my characters keep getting further and further from cannon, sorry. Also, as everyone wants a happy ending, I'll try to write a good one, though the end is not currently in sight. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! I was going to do personal thanks, but it always bothers me when the chapter looks so much longer than it actually is.  
  
Everything they'd brought was packed, transported back to Hogwarts by house elf magic. They'd been informed that the carriages would leave with or without them at five, and no one fancied a walk all the way back to the school.   
  
Draco figured it would be a bad idea for him to inform them of the fact that he could just Apparate to the outskirts of the school grounds and walk in, seeing as it was still illegal. Training wasn't until spring, and he hadn't been formally trained.   
  
He'd been wandering, having finally lost Crabbe and Goyle, idly searching for Pansy or Blaise when, for no apparent reason at all, Quentin began hissing and tugging at his cloak. "All right, all right, I'm coming," he said uselessly, knowing the Snargon didn't understand English any more than he understood snake.   
  
Quentin led him to an alley, hissing happily as Miri flew over.  
  
He looked down the alley, and froze. Finnigan was saying softly, "I'm sorry," and then he gently kissed none other than Harry Potter. Draco couldn't believe how much it hurt to see them together, how much it hurt to see the Irish boy's shy smile as he pulled away. Apparently, he thought bitterly, I fancy Potter.   
  
Harry looked at Seamus guardedly. True, they'd basically just made up, and he'd just gotten his first kiss (he'd decided not to count the one with Cho, as frankly, it sucked), but he couldn't believe it was that easy. He smiled at Seamus, knowing it was expected of him, but the smile never quite reached his eyes.   
  
"Do you want to look around?" his boyfriend asked.  
  
"You can go on without me, I'll be there in a bit," Harry replied. He was supposed to meet Draco sometime, and he wanted some time to think.   
  
Seamus nodded and grinned as he said happily, "See you soon, then," and then walked back out to the street.   
  
Draco, who'd heard the conversation, moved quickly around the corner, Finnigan never noticing him. He waited a few minutes before walking off, lost in thought.   
  
Harry sat in the common room, boredly staring at the Transfiguration notes Hermione had given him. He'd already tried Ron's, and couldn't read them. He seriously doubted Ron could even read them.  
  
Sighing, he gave up. There was no way he was going to get anywhere when he was so distracted, and there was only one thing on his mind right now – Draco. Miri promised she'd talked to Quentin, who'd happily agreed, but as it was now – Harry checked the clock – after nine, he figured the other boy wasn't going to show.   
  
Fine, he decided. I'll just have to find him then. Faking a yawn in case anyone was paying attention (they weren't), he went up to his room and grabbed the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak, then snuck back down the stairs.   
  
Finally someone entered through the portrait hole, and he crept out, barely avoiding being hit. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, and suddenly the blank parchment was filled with labeled dots. Now, to find Draco's.   
  
Draco sat in the potions classroom, watching Snape grade first year papers. He wasn't so much grading them as practicing his calligraphy, namely the letter F. "Sev-" he began, then fell silent.   
  
"If this is about Potter, it had better be that he's dead!" Snape growled. "Honestly, Draco, just because you kept him from killing himself doesn't mean you need to be his best friend!"   
  
Draco, who'd already sunk back into his brooding, snapped, "You know, you're rather intolerant for someone who keeps dirty pictures of the Gryffindor Head of House."  
  
"Wh-what?" the Professor sputtered weakly. "There was just the one I'll have you know, and, and, and why did Potter tell you?" Another thought occurring to him, he asked worriedly, "And who else did he tell?" Rubbing his temples, Snape muttered, "Bloody hell, Minerva is going to kill me."  
  
Draco snickered for a second, and then fell back into his thoughts. "But really, Sev, he-"  
  
"Fine," Snape sighed. "We'll talk about Potter, then."  
  
Glaring, Draco asked haughtily, "May I continue?" Snape nodded resignedly, and Draco said, "I found him last night, and he ended up crying on my shoulder."  
  
"How wonderful for you," came the sarcastic reply.  
  
Draco pounded a fist down on the table, surprising himself as much as his adoptive father. "Be quiet and take this seriously, Sev! I of all people should know what it's like to want to kill yourself-"  
  
Snape's eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry about that; sorry I didn't catch you sooner." The image of Draco lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood still haunted him.   
  
Softly Draco answered, "I know that, Sev, of course I know that. And I know that I saw the same look in Harry's eyes that I used to see reflecting back at me from the mirror."  
  
Snape winced as Draco said Harry instead of Potter, but motioned for his godson to continue.   
  
"This morning too, something was wrong, he was fighting with that Granger know-it-all. I – we could all hear him shouting clear across the Hall. If you're going to do something, it had better be soon, because it's not just the spell. You know as well as I that part of him wanted it."  
  
"I'll speak with Dumbledore," Snape conceded, "and if nothing's changed within a week's time, we'll have an," he looked rather annoyed, "intervention."  
  
"He's not his father, you know," Draco said quietly. "No more than I am mine. Goodnight Sev." Draco stood and walked out of the room, his thoughts no clearer than they'd been before.   
  
Harry watched the map intently, looking up in surprise when Draco's dot passed his own.   
  
Draco turned as Quentin began hissing. He'd listened to enough of the Snargons' conversations to guess that his fire-lizard was happy.   
  
Hissing a greeting in reply to Quentin, Harry smiled as Draco jumped. He pulled off the invisibility cloak and nodded calmly to the blonde, who was now staring in shock.  
  
"Where did you get that?" Draco asked reverently. He'd always wanted one, his father had even wanted one, but they were rare, not to mention expensive.   
  
"It was my father's," Harry replied, turning to look at Quentin. You could see me the whole time?   
  
Of course. Why were you wearing that thing over your head? the Snargon asked.  
  
Draco groaned inwardly. Of all times, why did he have to be tortured with Parseltongue now? He was too tired to come up with a good excuse for his strange fixation, and already he could feel himself reacting to the sound. He closed his eyes, not paying any attention to his surroundings until he heard a shouted, "Malfoy!"  
  
Opening one eye, he asked lazily, "So we've gone back to last names now?"  
  
"Well, you weren't answering to Draco," Harry huffed. "Anyways, I was wondering if you minded if Quentin stayed with me tonight, he wants to see Miri. You can come up for a bit if you'd like."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure they won't notice me walking into Gryffindor Tower after curfew, no, not at all," Draco said sarcastically.   
  
"Here," Harry held out the invisibility cloak. "I want to talk to you anyway, we can go pick up Miri and go somewhere else."  
  
"You trust me with this thing? Do you know how much this is worth?" Draco asked, reaching out to run a hand across the silky material.   
  
"Sure, why not, hurry up," Harry answered impatiently. He was watching Filch's dot (marked in red, Hermione had adjusted it last year), and it was getting closer.   
  
Doubting he'd ever have the chance to use one again, Draco wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak. He walked over to Harry and messed up his hair, then tapped him on the back, crowing happily, "You can't see me, you can't see me."  
  
Green eyes dancing with laughter at the childish action, Harry replied, "No, but I can hear you, and leave my hair alone you prat. Come on, this way."  
  
"I'm not a prat," Draco retorted indignantly, following Harry.   
  
"They already think I'm crazy for this morning, and talking to people who aren't there would make it worse, so be quiet."  
  
Draco muttered something under his breath and obeyed, walking silently until Harry suddenly stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady.   
  
Bending in low to whisper the password ("Do you really think I want to break into Gryffindork territory?"), Harry stepped back as the painting swung open to allow them inside.   
  
Ron looked up in surprise, and greeted, "Hey mate, thought you went to bed. Who's that?" he asked, motioning towards Quentin.   
  
"This is Quentin," Harry answered.   
  
Before he could ask where Miri was, Hermione, who'd been watching silently, asked, "Isn't Quentin Malfoy's Snargon?"  
  
"Yeah," the brunette replied, pretending not to hear the sarcastically whispered, "Brilliant girl," or feel the warm breath brushing past his ear. "He was coming to find me, wanted to see Miri. Have you seen her?"  
  
Still looking doubtful, Hermione replied, "She's with Matt and Kerri, over there," pointing towards the fire where three Snargons lay curled up.  
  
"Oh, your boyfriend says goodnight," Ron told him.  
  
Harry's cheeks burned, making Hermione even more suspicious. "Everyone here already knows you're dating Seamus, Harry."  
  
"I know, still just not used to it I guess," Harry replied quickly, hoping that Draco had suddenly gone deaf, or, more likely, didn't find the conversation interesting and had stopped listening after they walked in. "Well, goodnight, I'll be going then," he walked out the portrait hole, Miri, Quentin and an invisible Draco following behind.   
  
"Wait, Harry! You forgot your," the portrait fell shut, "invisibility cloak," Ron finished. Looking worriedly at Hermione, Ron asked, "He'll be okay, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded distractedly; almost positive she knew where the invisibility cloak was. Walking down the hall next to Harry, concealing a certain blonde haired, sliver eyed, aristocratic Slytherin. "He'll be fine."  
  
"So, you're dating the Irish git?" Draco asked, thankful for his skill in keeping his voice even and unreadable.   
  
"Yeah, since Friday," Harry sighed, not even bothering to defend Seamus. He was still a little miffed over his boyfriend's reaction to Parseltongue. "Are you okay with that?"  
  
Draco looked over in surprise, wondering how the hell Harry had found out about his crush when he'd only discovered it earlier that day, before realizing he was talking about being gay. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"Well, the wizarding world certainly isn't as biased as the Muggle one, but it still makes some straight wizards uncomfortable," Harry responded, relief washing through him.   
  
"Who said I'm straight?" Draco smirked.  
  
"Yeah, right," Harry laughed. He paused for a second as Draco directed him down another hall. "You, gay. Not with the stories I've heard."  
  
Coming to the portrait leading into his room, Draco said the password, "Gryffindork," and looked at Harry expectantly.   
  
"How original," Harry muttered dryly, walking into the room, and then stopping to stare in wonder. He'd expected the usual Slytherin green and silver, which there was, but not the colorful dragons chasing each other across the ceiling, or the lush carpeting and beautiful black sofa. A fire burned cheerfully in the ornate fireplace, and still (as in not moving) drawings lined the room. "Wow."  
  
Draco, looking rather shy, said quietly, "Most of it came from the Manor, after Father died. Dumbledore enchanted the ceiling." Going back to the previous conversation, he asked, "And why must I be straight?"  
  
Sprawling out on the ground near the fire, Harry answered, "You're considered the Slytherin sex-god by even the Gryffindor girls, and the things I've heard, well . . . you can't be gay."  
  
"Bi, actually," Draco replied, taking a seat. "One of the only traits Father encouraged."  
  
Harry, realizing he was serious, tried to mask his surprise by asking the first thing that came to mind. "Why?"  
  
"'The more people you entice, the more you hold under your power,'" Draco quoted, eyes holding a trace of sadness. "Everything was about power for him, even my mother." Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, Draco asked, "What did you want to talk to me about?"  
  
"Last night," Harry looked down. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that."  
  
"Your friends have done it, I'm sure," the blonde replied, looking up to where Miri was trying to play with the dragons while Quentin watched.   
  
"They haven't," the green eyed boy told him, eyes following his. "Are we friends?"  
  
Deciding to avoid the question, Draco repeated incredulously, "They haven't?"  
  
"Well, they don't like me to cry," Harry tried to explain. "I don't particularly like to cry, either, but it scares them. 'A weakness in their only hope' Remus told me. I don't think they really know what to do."  
  
Draco's respect for the savior of the wizarding world grew. He didn't know what he'd do without Sev and Blaise, and to some degree, Pansy. "Well, don't mention it." Thinking for a second, he added, "Seriously, it's probably best if you don't, Bulstrode will kill me if she thinks I'm a bloody Pheonix."  
  
"Are we friends?" Harry repeated, yawning. He laid his head down on his arms, looking up at Draco. After a few seconds of silence, he made to stand, figuring he wasn't going to get a reply.   
  
"I don't know," Draco finally answered. "Are we?"  
  
"I suppose we might be," Harry answered, moving to sit on the opposite side of the sofa as Draco. He lay on his back, head resting on the armrest, so he could watch Miri.   
  
Draco rolled his eyes and moved over, giving the other boy more room. "How do you tell?"   
  
"How do you?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes away from the Snargons. He laughed as Quentin tried to explain to Miri that the dragons weren't real.   
  
Draco lay back, mimicking Harry's position so he could watch Quentin. "The friends I have are people I grew up with. It was never a question."  
  
"That would be nice, to have grown up with friends," Harry said sleepily.   
  
"You didn't?"  
  
"Ron was my first friend. In fact – no wait, it was you that was the first person my own age to speak civilly to me." Grinning he added, "Even if I had no clue what you were talking about."  
  
Having gotten lost somewhere along the line, Draco answered, "Someday you have to tell me what you're talking about."  
  
"Hmm," Harry agreed, half-asleep.   
  
"Harry? Harry? Potter, wake up." Rolling his eyes, Draco informed the sleeping boy, "Well, I'm not carrying you anywhere. You're just going to have to stay there." Harry made no comment, so Draco walked through another door, changing into a pair of silk pajama bottoms.   
  
He lay in bed with the curtains open, for the first time in months falling asleep almost instantly.   
  
Author's Note: Ok, reactions, ideas, anything is welcome, as long as it isn't a random flame. If there's a good reason for a flame (aka NOT homosexuality) then go ahead. And I swear, the end of Seamus is in sight! Review! 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hi everybody, sorry it took me so long to update. I'm finally getting to the point I want to be at with this, and hopefully updates will be coming faster. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, if it wasn't for you guys, I would have quit. Non-con in this chapter. NOT graphic, but it's there, so be warned.  
  
There was a heavy weight holding him down, pressing him into the wooden floor.  
  
Slowly the fog around him melted away, and Harry could see the large, dark haired man sitting on top of him, hitting him as his other hand tore at Harry's clothes. Vernon.  
  
The man's eyes burned with fury and hatred and disgust, all overlaid with a dark pleasure. For a second, the expression rivaled that of Voldemort, and Harry could almost believe he was being attacked by the Dark Lord himself. Somehow the idea was comforting, or perhaps a better word was familiar.  
  
Then sounds began to reach him, and the illusion was shattered. "Did you think you could talk to me like that, did you boy?! Well, you'll get what's yours, you'll get what's coming to you. Nobody cares about the little freak in the cupboard, you deserve every second of this!"  
  
Harry bit his lip, bit through his lip to keep from making any sound as he struggled to get away.  
  
Suddenly his arms were pinned down above him as Vernon ground his hips into Harry's. That was it, screw pride, Harry thought. He screamed, the sound full of rage. He fought, biting, kicking, anything to get away before Vernon's horrible betrayal could be acted out again.  
  
Draco was woken by a furious scream, his first thought being, Another attack! He grabbed his wand and ran out of the room to see Harry thrashing on the couch whispering something over and over again, and when Draco got closer, he could hear the words.  
  
"Not again, not again, not again." The sleeping boy's mantra was interrupted as he let out a low wail, sending shivers down the Slytherin's back.  
  
He called quietly, "Harry." No reaction. "Harry," a bit louder this time. Still no response. Tentatively he reached out a hand to tap the Gryffindor, and jerked back, staring in shock at the tooth shaped indents that were filling with blood. He'd had enough. "Potter!" he yelled.  
  
Harry's eyes flew open, breath coming in harsh pants as he gasped out, "Bathroom?"  
  
Draco pointed, and Harry ran, barely making it before he threw up. He could taste the blood from his lip mixed with Draco's blood, could feel his uncle's hands on him. Memories flashed, of what had actually happened, and it was so much worse than any dream.  
  
Draco walked in behind him, wondering what in the world he could have been dreaming that affected him so badly.  
  
He grabbed a cloth and soaked it in cold water; the sound of Harry's retching filling him with horror and sympathy.  
  
After wringing the cloth, he walked over to the sick boy, whose head was now resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet.  
  
Kneeling behind him, Draco felt Harry tense, then slowly relax as the cloth was pressed gently against his forehead. "You want to talk about it?"  
  
"You don't want to know," came the dark reply.  
  
"What makes you so sure you know me?" Draco asked, a slight challenge in the words. He masked the annoyance, but it was there, annoyance that the Golden Boy didn't think he was strong enough to deal with something concerning Voldemort.  
  
"I don't need to know you. No one wants to know this."  
  
"Your friends, they don't know do they?"  
  
"No," settling himself more comfortably against the other boy's chest, and then jerking forward as he realized what he was doing, Harry stood. Not meeting Draco's eyes, he added, "They don't need to know."  
  
Draco stood too, and for the first time Harry noticed he was shirtless. "Sorry I woke you," he muttered. Part of him was disgusted with himself for even paying attention to the fact that the Slytherin was only half-clothed, much less appreciating the sight after the dream he'd just had. The rest of him was silently chanting, I'm dating Seamus and Draco doesn't like me.  
  
"Don't worry about it. And Harry," he waited until Harry looked up. "Maybe they don't need to know, but maybe you need them to."  
  
Harry's face went blank, a cool mask as he replied, "No. No one needs or wants to know. Not even me."  
  
Sighing, Draco turned to leave, and Harry caught a glimpse of something on his shoulder. A dragon stood on his right shoulder blade, wings closed, an unmoving sentinel.  
  
Draco opened the door to two very unhappy Snargons, who both flew in demanding to know whether their humans were all right.  
  
Shh, shh, I'm fine, it was just a dream, Harry reassured them as they flew to inspect him.  
  
Your lip, Miri said, coming closer.  
  
Quentin, who'd moved to check Draco, hissed, Draco's hand.  
  
We're both okay, I promise. Neither fire-lizard seemed completely sure, and Harry continued hissing soft assurances.  
  
Draco was seriously wondering what god he'd pissed off to deserve this. He couldn't deal with Parseltongue, not with adrenaline still coursing through his body, not with Harry alone in his rooms. He turned to go, needing to leave before his arousal became apparent, wishing he could stay forever.  
  
What's wrong with your hand? Harry hissed, confused when Draco didn't answer. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Draco turned, only to have something hissed at him by Harry. "I don't speak snake, Potter," he ground out. But this boy wasn't Potter, and Draco couldn't even think of him as such anymore. It was Harry standing before him, Harry who'd just been sick over a nightmare and was now trying to comfort the Snargons instead of demanding comfort himself, Harry who he wanted nothing more to kiss . . . Three days, Draco thought, slightly panicked. Three days was all it took for him to get close, and now I can't distance myself from him.  
  
"Sorry, wasn't thinking," the dark haired boy apologized. "I was asking what happened to your hand."  
  
Drained of any patience he'd had, his thoughts still racing, the blonde answered shortly, "You did." He then left the bathroom, lying across the couch where Harry had been sleeping, staring up at the dragons.  
  
Harry followed him out, the Snargons flying behind him, as he walked to the Slytherin and grabbed his hand. "Let me see."  
  
"Haven't you done enough damage for one night?" Draco asked, trying to snatch his hand back.  
  
Not letting him, Harry said quietly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean – well, it wasn't you I was fighting, anyways. You need – no, never mind, I can do it." The Gryffindor ran a slow hand over the cuts.  
  
Draco gritted his teeth, knowing Harry would mistake the darkening of his eyes for pain. For a seventeen year old, the Boy-Who-Lived was shockingly naïve.  
  
"There, done." Harry told him, and Draco looked down at his hand. It wasn't fully healed, but close enough that no one would be able to tell there'd been a cut there moments ago.  
  
"Where's your wand?" the blonde asked confusedly.  
  
"In my robes," Harry answered, waiting for his words to sink in.  
  
"But that's-you can-wandless magic?"  
  
"No," Harry replied, wishing it was. If he'd had wandless magic, he could have stopped Vernon from . . .No, he told himself, don't think about it. It was the only way he'd survived this far.  
  
"Well, I just saw you do magic without a wand. Generally, that's considered wandless magic," Draco informed him dryly.  
  
"It's not. It's-I can heal without a wand. Fairly useless skill, when it comes down to it," He added bitterly. It certainly hadn't helped him any, except afterwards.  
  
Draco should have been surprised at the tone, would have been a few days ago. It seemed to suit this Harry, though. Depressed, bitter, angry, alone. And still trying to protect others from everything. "What happened to you, Harry?"  
  
"I already told you, you don't want to know." He said, green eyes emptied of all emotion.  
  
"And I already said you don't know me, Potter." This time he didn't bother masking the annoyance, the words an obvious challenge, as was the use of his last name.  
  
Being enemies for five and a half yeas had much more impact than being friends for three days, and Harry reacted instantly to the challenge in his former rival's voice. "You think you can handle it? You think you're so strong? Fine," he snapped. "My bloody fucking uncle raped me!"  
  
Harry watched the horror, disgust, and pity playing across the Slytherin's face, and spat, "Deal with that, Malfoy."  
  
Then he snatched his invisibility cloak from where it had been lying on the floor and stalked out, not giving the shocked boy a chance to respond.  
  
The next morning, Draco woke on the couch, where he'd fallen asleep waiting for Harry to come back and tell him it had been a bad joke. He could tell he was up early, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so with a sigh and a glance at his dragons, he went to get ready.  
  
An hour later, fully awake and with five minutes to go until breakfast started, Draco walked back into the main room, and jumped when the door from the Slytherin common room opened with a bang. "Blaise don't-" he started to say as he turned, but stopped when he realized it wasn't Blaise.  
  
Millicent Bulstrode stood in the doorway, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Draco Malfoy, all alone," Millicent jeered.  
  
"What do you want, Bulstrode?" Draco asked wearily. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with fanatical Death Eaters or their slow offspring.  
  
"I want you to stay away from the fucking Gryffindor Golden Boy," she snarled the title disgustedly. "You see, Draco," she continued sweetly, "The Dark Lord doesn't want you, and nothing you could do would convince the Light to let you in." Dropping all pretense of sweetness, she finished, "So don't get in the way. No one will miss you if you're gone."  
  
"Don't threaten me, Bulstrode," Draco warned, eyes glinting dangerously. "I know more of the Dark Arts than you could even dream, and I'd just love the chance to try them out on a live subject." He smiled darkly. "How about a demonstration." He cast three quick "Imperio" curses at them and smirked as he saw the results.  
  
Millicent was crawling along the floor, where she then kissed the hem of his robes while Crabbe and Goyle, two of the most homophobic people Draco knew, were kissing each other. He sneered as Millicent crawled back into the Slytherin common room, to the laughter of everyone else who was awake.  
  
"Finite Incantatum," he called merrily, and watched fury bloom across the girl's face. "Perhaps," he said conversationally, "you ought to stay out of my way." Then he closed the door in her face, turning to deal with Crabbe and Goyle. "Finite Incantatum." The two looked at each other in horror, and he had to fight to keep from laughing.  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle." They turned to look at him, eyes burning with rage. As they made to lunge for him, he asked, "Do you really think that's the wisest move?" They froze, and his pleasant expression melted into anger. "You used to serve me, and all I ask of you now is to stay the hell away. Next time, it won't be as pleasant an Unforgivable." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and followed them through to the common room, and then to the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
Harry woke to Ron shaking him, asking worriedly, "Are you all right, mate?"  
  
It took him a moment to get his bearings. He was in the common room . . . why wasn't he in the dorm-oh. "Fine, Ron," he sighed. The dried tear tracks on his face belied his words, but Ron didn't have a chance to question him as Quentin and Miri, who'd followed him back, woke up.  
  
Immediately they flew to him, blocking his face from Ron's view as they hissed worriedly at him. He'd given as much of an explanation as he could to them last night, though Snargons didn't understand the concept of rape. What they did understand was that he'd been hurt by someone he'd trusted, and were even more fiercely protective now. Quentin, Miri, that's Ron, he would never hurt me, Harry assured them. Slowly they backed off, to reveal Ron looking even more worried.  
  
"Harry, please, tell me what happened, and don't say nothing, because they weren't like this last night." Ron felt completely helpless. Harry was in some sort of pain, and he couldn't do anything because he didn't know what it was.  
  
"It-it's not nothing, but it's not something that puts me in danger Ron, I swear. I-" Catching a glimpse of a clock, Harry swore. "I'll talk to you later, but I need to take a shower." Meeting his best friend's eyes, he said softly, "I'm okay, Ron, really." He ignored the voice telling him it was a lie.  
  
Like it? Hate it? Any suggestions? Review! 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Sorry, if you can't tell, I've been having problems with formatting. Hopefully that's been fixed now, I guess we'll see. You're all going to hate me for this, but I need Seamus for the plot, he WILL be crucio'd later, I promise. For now, though, he's a necessary evil.  
  
Harry ran into Double Potions ten minutes late, having skipped breakfast.  
  
"Potter, how good of you to grace us with your presence," Snape greeted sarcastically. "Ten points from Gryffindor for-"  
  
But Harry, who'd seen that the only open seat was next to Draco, had already turned and walked back out.  
  
Hermione, who'd been told by Ron about Harry's sleeping arrangements, and the rest of Gryffindor stared at the closed door in shock.  
  
Two people rose to follow him, apparently not noticing each other. Seamus looked at Snape, saying, "I'll get him Professor." Snape nodded. Hermione was the only one to see Malfoy sit back down slowly, something close to jealousy on his face.  
  
Running down the hall, Seamus yelled, "Harry! Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
With a sigh, Harry slowed, knowing he shouldn't run away from his boyfriend. Idly he wondered what he'd seen in Seamus, hating himself for the thought. The Irish boy was his boyfriend, and deserved better than that. "Nothing, Seamus, just didn't want to waste a perfectly good morning in Potions."  
  
Seamus looked out the window, and then fixed Harry with an incredulous stare. "Harry, it's freezing cold with no sun and no snow. The day couldn't get worse." He moved closer to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the dark-haired boy's waist, not noticing Harry stiffening faintly. "Please, just tell me what's wrong? Did Malfoy do something to you?"  
  
"No!" Harry protested sharply. "It's nothing Seam, I'm fine, let's go back to class." He pulled away and started walking back. Seamus caught his hand and smiled brightly at him, Harry trying his best to return the smile, though he suspected it was a failed effort.  
  
They walked in together, Seamus releasing his hand and moving back to his seat. Pansy again, Harry noticed.  
  
He took the seat next to Draco, refusing to even look at him.  
  
"Twenty points from Gr-" Snape began, before being cut off by a note that had suddenly appeared on his head, slipping off into his hand. At least he knew who it was from, only Dumbledore would do something like that, because only Dumbledore could get away with it. "What now?" he growled, opening it. "Oh for Merlin's sake. Potter, go see the Headmaster."  
  
Harry jumped from his seat, eager to be anywhere else. As he passed Ron and Hermione, he muttered, "I know what it's for, don't worry."  
  
His words didn't seem to do much good, but he couldn't bring himself to care, he still felt vaguely sick. He couldn't believe he'd told Draco, when he'd been doing such a good job at keeping it from Ron and Hermione. How was he supposed to be in the same room as the other boy now? Another thought occurred to him. What if Draco told someone? "Oh gods," he whispered, feeling even worse.  
  
There was Dumbledore's office. Mumbling the password, Harry wondered why he felt as though he was about to face a firing squad.  
  
Draco couldn't take this anymore, he was bored nearly to tears. All they were doing was an essay on their Calming Potion, and its negative side- effects. Having been on the receiving end of some of them, or else seen them on someone else, he'd already passed the 13 inch requirement. Neatly writing a conclusion, he walked up to the Potions Professor.  
  
"I'm finished," he informed Snape, handing him the scroll. He smirked at Granger's annoyed look. "Sev," he muttered in a lower tone, "can I go see Madame Pomfrey? I've a bit of a headache."  
  
"Of course," Snape said, quickly scrawling a pass. "Are you going to be okay?"  
  
"Fine, fine, just tired you know." Draco emphasized the statement with a small yawn, inwardly grinning. Sev would kill him if he found out how easily he'd just been manipulated.  
  
He left the room, speeding his pace as soon as he was out of sight. Hopefully the Headmaster hadn't changed his password since the beginning of the year . . .  
  
Harry sat at Dumbledore's desk, across from the man himself. They'd begun with the usual pleasantries ("Lemon drop?" "Sure." "How are you doing?" "Okay." "Anything you want to talk about?" "No."), but now the inane chatter had faded into silence.  
  
He knew he was supposed to be talking about Sirius, or the Dursleys, or Voldemort, or his suicide attempts, but Harry didn't want to. All he wanted was to sleep forever, or maybe just run away from it all, or be someone else. "There's a reason the heroes always wear masks," he said to himself.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and was about to speak as someone else came in. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Shouldn't you be in class?"  
  
Harry stood, ready to walk out. He did not want to see, hear, or talk to Draco Malfoy. Ever. Again. Not with what he knew.  
  
"Harry, wait," Draco ordered, seeing the fight or flight instinct come to rest on flight in green eyes. "I want to talk to you, and maybe Dumbledore ought to know, too."  
  
Harry did the first thing he could think of – cast a Silencing Charm on the blonde standing in front of him. "No," he said, desperation lacing his angry tone. "You don't get to tell anyone. No one. Needs. To know. I'm fine." He was yelling now, eyes growing bright with unshed tears. "Why can't you all just leave me alone? I'm fine! Stop bloody asking!"  
  
"Harry, calm down," Dumbledore soothed. "It's okay. Why don't you remove your spell from Draco and we'll talk."  
  
Eyes still wide with panic, Harry shook his head wildly. He made to run, but Draco caught him, holding him to his chest.  
  
Draco tried to whisper comforting words, then remembered the Silencing Charm. Inwardly sighing, he used his other hand to rub Harry's back gently, the same thing he'd done Saturday night. When Harry's breathing finally calmed, he let go, meeting jewel green eyes.  
  
Harry stared at Draco in shock. There was no disgust in the blonde's eyes, no revulsion at having touched him. "Finite Incantatum," he whispered.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently.  
  
"Tonight," Harry said quietly. "Ron and Hermione should be here, and I don't want to tell it twice."  
  
"I'll be here too," Draco said, his voice leaving no room for argument.  
  
"Okay," Harry agreed.  
  
"You're excused from the rest of your classes, Harry. I'll let your Professors know."  
  
Nodding, Harry walked out, wanting someplace quiet to go so he could think. Draco had apparently stayed behind, though Harry knew he wouldn't say anything about last night. They both knew it was his secret to tell.  
  
A few minutes and a whispered "Gryffindork" later, Harry collapsed on a black sofa and fell asleep staring into the fire.  
  
Author's Note: The Snargons have been ordered to stay out of Harry's classes, after their reaction to Ron, in case you were curious. That will probably change soon. So, opinions, ideas, anything you feel like saying? REVIEW! 


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: So, I know everyone hates Seamus, but he's going to be here for the next few chapters, and he'll probably be getting a bit more action from Harry. But don't worry, so will Draco. ::sigh:: Anyway, I'm **so** sorry about the delay, I'm getting a new computer next month, and I'll be writing more often too. I'm leaving for three weeks on Wed. But I'll try to update again before that. Thanks everyone!

p.s. Some shameless self-advertising here: check out my new fic, Forever, and tell me what you think.

After the last class, Draco ran into his rooms, looking hassled. Spotting Harry on the couch, talking with the Snargons near the fire, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin you're here, now go out there."

Harry looked at him, startled. "What's going on?"

"Granger, Weasel, and your bloody boyfriend think I've killed you or something. They've been following me around, and if you don't tell them right now that you're not dead, I will hex them into next week!"

With a quiet laugh, Harry walked out, immediately seeing his best friends and boyfriend. They appeared to have been pounding on the wall, and he realized Draco's rooms must have Silencing Charms around them.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Are you all right? What did he do to you?"

"What makes you so sure he did something to me?" Harry demanded, instantly annoyed.

"Let's go back to Gryffindor and discuss this," Ron suggested, looking around the hall, where Slytherins were beginning to watch them.

"No, Ron, I want to discuss it here," Harry replied evenly.

Seamus walked over, gently but firmly grabbing his shoulder in an attempt to steer him out of the dungeons.

"No!" Harry cried, pulling away. They were gaining an audience, younger Slytherins stopping to see what was going on.

Hermione stepped over, saying under her breath, "Harry, don't be unreasonable. Let's go back to Gryffindor and we can talk about it there."

Harry looked at her, hurt and betrayal obvious in his eyes. "Mione, I'm not being unreasonable."

Again Seamus stepped in, trying to direct Harry towards Gryffindor. Hermione put a hand on his other arm, aiding Seamus's effort.

Ron started to step in, obviously not sure which side to be on. He wanted to help Harry, but did that mean bringing him back to Gryffindor or getting Seamus and Hermione to leave him alone?

On the other side of the door, the Snargons were hissing wildly. Draco looked at them worriedly, they seemed to be about to throw themselves against the wall. He stood and let them out, stepping into the hall himself.

Immediately the Snargons flew to Seamus and Hermione, looking as though they were trying to spit flames at the two. As they were still too young, all they managed was a bit of steam.

Draco was seeing red. They were supposed to be Harry's friends, and here they were, dragging him around. Harry's eyes were slightly wide, a bit panicked, and no wonder, with what he'd been through. "Get off of him!" Draco shouted.

All of them turned, startled. Draco didn't give them a chance to react as he stormed over, tearing Seamus's hand off of Harry, only slightly gentler with Hermione.

"Wha-" Seamus began but was immediately cut off as Draco rounded on Ron. "And you, Weasel, he's your best mate!"

"Mind your own business, Malfoy," Hermione snapped.

"Shut up, Mudblood!" Draco shouted furiously. Hermione's eyes widened at the name, he hadn't called her that for nearly a year.

"Ferret-face, leave her alone," Ron hollered. By now most of Slytherin was staring at them, having given up all pretense of doing anything else.

Hermione stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry, especially here. "No, Ron," she said quietly, not quite trusting her voice. "If he would rather be among the snakes than his best friends, we'll not stop him. Come on." Without meeting Harry's eyes, she left, Ron trailing after, glancing back every so often, as though torn.

Seamus looked at Draco resentfully, not sure what to do. Harry turned to him, saying softly, "It's all right Seamus; I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Hurt mixed with the anger in his eyes as he muttered, "You know Harry, I'm beginning to think he's more your boyfriend than I am."

With a sigh, Harry looked at Draco, then back at Seamus. "I'll come with you, let me just grab my things from Draco's room, all right?"

Seamus nodded, and Harry walked back into Draco's rooms, Draco, Quentin and Miri following behind.

"You could just stay here, you know," Draco offered, his eyes still bright with anger.

"He's my boyfriend, Draco, and he has a point. I have to go," Harry gave him an apologetic smile as he picked up his books. "Thanks though. I'll see you tonight."

Nodding, the Slytherin was once again thankful for his skill in keeping a blank face. He hated seeing Harry walk away, hand discreetly tucked into the Irish git's as they made their way to Gryffindor. Waiting until they disappeared from sight, the hall already clearing of interested bystanders, Draco walked back into his rooms, the Snargons following him. Tonight.

"Look-" Both Harry and Seamus began. After an awkward pause and a quick smile, Harry said, "You can go first."

"I'm sorry, Harry. We were worried, you weren't in any classes, and no one had seen you since Potions. Malfoy left just after you, and when he finally came back, at lunch, we couldn't find you." Seamus looked at him, sweetly innocent.

"No, it's okay Seam, I should have left a note or something. It's been a rough few days, and well, the thing is," Harry studied him for a moment, wondering how much he should reveal. "Draco found me Thursday night, nearly dead, and he-well, he saved my life." It sounded so melodramatic, but he needed Seamus to understand.

"What happened Thursday?" his boyfriend asked softly, his voice hesitant, as though he wasn't sure he should be asking.

"Someone cast a spell on me, and Draco brought me to Snape." Sufficiently vague, but no lies. Good. It was best not to lie; he always managed to trap himself. "I've been seeing him in a bit of a different light."

Seamus nodded in understanding, though he wasn't sure he understood. He was beginning to realize what he'd gotten himself into dating the Boy-Who-Lived. True, he'd known Harry for seven years, but they hadn't gotten close, and the Quidditch playing teen seemed separate from the wizarding world's hero. Oh, it became more obvious in classes and such, but . . .

Once inside the Gryffindor common room, Seamus kissed Harry softly. Harry pulled back quickly, saying, "Ron, and Mione."

"Yeah," Seamus agreed, but Harry could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Instead of going to Hermione's Head Girl rooms, Harry trudged up to the dorm. He didn't want to deal with people right now, even though he'd just spent the day alone. But sleeping doesn't count, he decided.

3 wasted scrolls later, he had some semblance of a beginning to his Transfiguration essay, due Friday. Gods only knew what Snape had assigned, and Professor Sprout. He'd been so busy ignoring Seamus in Binns' class that he hadn't heard a word. Probably didn't matter though.

Finally, he threw down his quill. Screw N.E.W.T.s, he could always go be a professional Quidditch player or something. Thinking of Quidditch made him long for his broom. To be flying, free from everything . . .

He was about to grab a cloak when Ron walked in, looking guilty. "I'm sorry, mate."

"It's all right." Harry couldn't really expect his best friend to go against his girlfriend, and at least he hadn't helped. That counted for something, right?

  "Where are you going?" the red-head asked, motioning towards his cloak.

"Flying," Harry answered, checking the skies again. Perhaps something a bit warmer . . .

"First you're eating dinner," Ron said firmly. When Harry looked ready to protest, he continued, "I know you haven't eaten anything today, and Mione isn't here to nag you," a small grin, "so I will. Come down to the Great Hall with us."

Harry couldn't stand the thought of food, not with his visit to Dumbledore looming ever closer. "I-" he started, but was quickly cut off. 

Ron's smile faded, his expression showing worry and hopelessness. "Please, if you won't tell me what's wrong, at least let me do this much. You have to eat, Harry."

With a sigh, he agreed, following Ron out into the common room, where he was met by Seamus, Dean, and Neville. "Hi guys," he greeted, hoping his nervousness wasn't too obvious.

After a few minutes of random chatter, none of which registered in Harry's mind, they left, Dean and Lavender, Harry and Seamus, Ron and . . . "Where's Hermione?"

"She's not speaking to me," Ron answered, pretending to be unaffected. But Harry could read the anger, hurt, and bitterness in his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

There was a slight pause in the conversation, and then Dean jumped in with something about the Quidditch cup, and soon everyone was talking animatedly.

Harry picked at his food, sick with nerves. What if they hated him after this? What if they couldn't stand to look at him? At least he was never going back. If he saw Vernon again, while he couldn't be kicked out of Hogwarts, well . . . a single Avada Kedavra might be worth the subsequent stay in Azkaban.

He looked up, surprised to see the Great Hall half empty. Dinner was over already? Hermione hadn't even shown up, how was he supposed to tell her about the meeting with Dumbledore? Maybe he could use her absence as an excuse to delay the conversation…forever…

"Come on, mate, let's go back to Gryffindor. I'll let you beat me at wizard's chess," Ron offered.

Harry laughed as he stood, though it sounded fake even to his own ears. "Sure. Let's go."

As they were walking out of the Great Hall, Millicent Bulstrode shoved past, spilling something that looked like pumpkin juice down the front of Harry's robes. "Watch it Potter," she snarled.

"You watch it, you big oaf," Ron complained, but she was already gone. "Bloody Slytherins."

Harry nodded vaguely, wondering when the hall had started spinning. Something was wrong, he had promised to tell Miri if something was wrong hadn't he? Miri, he hissed, not noticing Ron looking at him strangely.

"Mate, are you okay? Your fire-lizard is still with Malfoy, remember?" the red head looked worriedly over at Harry, not liking the sickly pallor his skin had taken, or the dilated pupils. "Harry?"

Harry looked towards the hazy blur talking to him. It was red at the top, red-hair… "Ron?" he whispered.

"Harry? Harry what's going on?" Ron's voice was frantic, attracting the attention of the few others in the hall. Harry didn't seem to notice, though, he'd stopped and was swaying a bit, as though he couldn't keep his balance.

"Something's wrong," he tried to say, before collapsing to the ground.

Hermione, who'd been one of the onlookers, rushed forward. "We've got to get him to Madame Pomfrey!"

Ron nodded, whatever fight they'd had disappearing in an instant. He lifted Harry, wondering when his friend had lost so much weight. "Come on!"

Author's Note: So, what will Draco's reaction be? What's actually wrong? Will the meeting with Dumbledore ever take place? Where the bloody hell was Seamus during all of this? I don't actually know, so review! (ok, so I do know, but ideas are still welcome)


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Wow. Long time, I know. Sorry about that, with school, work, Forever, and my own laziness, this fic kind of took a back seat. I will try to update more frequently, and everyone whose been reading Forever, expect to see a few similarities. I didn't intend them to parallel each other, but in the next few chapters . . . well, it will make sense then. Thank you all for reviewing, without them I would have given up a long time ago.

And now on to the fic . . .

Draco sat in his rooms, not wanting to deal with the chatter in the Slytherin common room tonight.

He'd been thinking about Harry, which led to thoughts of Voldemort, and Lucius. Millicent's words from that morning echoed hauntingly. The Dark didn't want him and the Light wouldn't take him.

It would be nice if the words were true, but he knew they weren't. Voldemort would accept him if he chose to follow his father's path, and he was powerful enough that Dumbledore wouldn't turn him away.

In this war, and it was war, whether or not the Ministry would admit it, there was no neutral. Idealistically, what he'd told Harry was true. He never wanted to be a slave, to anyone. But if he sided with the Phoenixes, and they lost…he'd heard tales, and seen his father come home half dead on more than one occasion, hell, his father had been killed. He did not want to be prisoner to a man who tortured and murdered his own allies. Merlin only knew what he did to those he considered traitor.

Draco's dark thought were interrupted as Blaise and Pansy walked in, both wearing serious expressions. The four fire lizards hissed happily, ignored by the humans.

"I don't know why you've taken this strange interest in Potter," Blaise began, "but something's happened."

"He's in the hospital wing now," Pansy continued, voice softer.

"What?"

"He was acting strange in the hall, started speaking in Parseltongue, and then he just…collapsed."

Draco stood, and was just as quickly shoved back down by Blaise. "Sorry, mate, but not all of us are Phoenixes, and some of the Death-Eaters-in-training are getting suspicious. You can't run out there just because the Golden Boy fainted in the hall."

Pansy nodded in reluctant agreement. "If you're not with the Dark Lord, you're against him, and you know as well as I that we're outnumbered in Slytherin."

Anger. Draco was furious, with his housemates for being so blind, with Dumbledore for splitting the school into Houses that hated each other, with Voldemort for existing, with the world that seemed so set against him. "Bloody hell!"

Standing again he pushed Blaise aside, pacing back and forth. The air around him seemed coiled with the tension obvious in his body.

Pansy gave Blaise a worried look. Draco was never this out of control.

"Draco," Blaise began. His voice was quiet, but caught the blonde's attention nonetheless. "What's going on between you and Potter?"

Reading the look in his friend's eyes, the tone of voice, Draco gave a short, humorless chuckle. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all."

Pansy looked at him her face telling him as clearly as if she'd said it out loud. She didn't believe him. "Then why do you care?"

On the white cotton sheets of the hospital wing bed, Harry Potter writhed in silent pain. The blanket they'd thrown over him when he started shivering had long since been kicked to the floor, and the sheets were crumpled where his hands clutched at them, knuckles going white. He was still unconscious.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked again. The question had been repeated many times in the last hour, asked of Madame Pomfrey, of McGonagall, of Dumbledore.

Silence was her only reply. No one knew. The Headmaster was gone, having been told of Bulstrode's part in all of this. McGonagall too had left, to find books that no one actually believed would help.

"Please." Ron looked to Madame Pomfrey, the third member in their quiet vigil. "Please help him. At least make him stop hurting."

She looked back at them, her eyes shiny with tears she refused to shed. "There's nothing I can do without the risk of making it worse."

And on the bed, face tight, jaw clenched, Harry stayed lost in nightmares and agony, no end in sight.

_Ideas, suggestions, constructive criticism always welcome. Please review!_


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